


Passion's Slave

by EmilyScarlett



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Begging, Caning, Cats, Dark, Dehumanization, Enjolras' Logic Is Illogical, Fluff, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, Kneeling, M/M, Mentions of Canonical Character Deaths, Mild Boot Worship, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6968527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyScarlett/pseuds/EmilyScarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire rescues Enjolras from a very bad situation which he's found himself in after the barricades, but recovering and moving on won't be easy for either of them.</p><p>For a kink meme prompt. Please take note of the tags before reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for this prompt : http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/13775.html?thread=11365583#t11365583
> 
> The actual training part will be shown and mentioned further in later chapters so keep an eye on the tags if there's anything you want to avoid. 
> 
> I can't promise regular updates with this, it'll be whenever I can find the time and motivation to write, but hopefully it shouldn't be too long in between chapters.

“What are you?” the man above him growled.

“I am nothing, master.”

“So what do you deserve?”

“Whatever you decide to give me, master.”

“That’s right,” the man said, bringing his whip down hard across Enjolras’ back. “I’m surprised a worthless thing like you managed to remember that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Grantaire couldn’t exactly say that he was happy to be present at the function, but at least there was alcohol. He knew his drinking had become even more problematic lately than it had been previously. He’d do anything to forget just for a while that all of his friends were dead and he’d been passed out drunk while it happened. Maybe he could get away with only staying at this ridiculous party long enough to get drunk, and then leave without having to actually talk to anyone.

 

The only reason he was even there in the first place was because his parents had threatened to cease supporting him financially if he was not present. He made a fair amount from selling the paintings which he produced in his studies, but it was not nearly enough to support himself on. Alas, he was forced to make small talk with high society elitists in order to please his parents.

 

He weighed the options available to him at such an event. He could remain in the main ballroom and try to avoid the attentions of simpering debutantes looking to catch Mme. and M. Grantaire’s only son’s attention in hopes of making a match. His family was quite prosperous and well respected; old money. Perhaps that was part of why Enjolras had distained him so?

 

He quickly threw himself into conversation with one of said debutantes, avoiding all thoughts of Enjolras. That wound was still too raw, would honestly never heal. It was one thing to lose his friends, but Enjolras had been the center around which his miserable life had revolved. He had gazed up at him as a devotee and been received as a nuisance. Enjolras had made him believe in him through sheer fervour and had earned his worship without looking for it, or even appreciating it once it had been given. It did not matter; Grantaire had loved him and it killed him to think of Enjolras dying all alone, his dreams of the future come to nothing.

 

The mindless chatter with the debutante was doing nothing to distract him from his unsavoury thoughts. With some careful manoeuvring he managed to grab a bottle of brandy and escape to one of the smoking rooms, the other option at a party like this. These were the rooms where one retired to in order to take part in less socially acceptable pleasures. A pretty boy or girl, when faced with the prospect of a few francs and a night without freezing on the streets, could usually be found to take part. It was a distasteful practice, but Grantaire knew that no one would bother him in here.

 

Unfortunately, upon entering the room he found himself face to face with his father. The man at first looked startled to see his son in such a place, but then a smile spread across his face.

“René!” he cried in greeting, using the first name that Grantaire disliked and avoid using at all costs. “I did not expect to see you back here.”

“I came to see what all the fuss was about,” Grantaire lied, smiling easily.

“Well, come in and sit down then,” his father said, ushering him to an armchair. “Hubert has just gone to fetch the entertainment.”

“Entertainment of what form?” Grantaire asked carefully, being unable to think of a better way to phrase the question.

“A boy, a little younger than you. Pretty as a girl, and apparently very obedient. Ah, here they are now!”

 

Grantaire turned towards the door way and froze at what he saw, hardly daring to believe his eyes because that… that was Enjolras being led in. That was Enjolras, naked, crawling after the man leading him on a leash as though he were a fucking _dog_. That was Enjolras who was just letting it happen.

 

Eventually the man leading him sat in an armchair across the room from Grantaire’s and Enjolras knelt at his feet with his head bowed. He looked up immediately however, when the leash around his neck was tugged.

“Stand up and let them look at you,” the man, presumably Hubert, ordered. Enjolras obeyed, turning to face the rest of the room with his eyes down. Grantaire didn’t think he’d seen him yet and didn’t know what reaction to expect from Enjolras when he did. This was only a passing thought, however, as he tried to think of a way to get them both out of this situation.

 

“Beautiful,” remarked Grantaire’s father. “Wherever did you get him?”

“Some National Guard officer sold him to me a few years ago. Said he came from the barricades in ’32. He got knocked out, so this officer took him, trained him up to be obedient. Then he got bored of him, sold him to me. He cost a pretty penny too with how pretty he is. My wife wasn’t happy about it, let me tell you. Boy,” he said, sharply to Enjolras, “go show M. Grantaire that you’re worth every penny I spent on you.”

 

Enjolras’ eyes snapped up when he heard that name, staring at Grantaire’s father, and the slowly, inexorably, his eyes slid over to stare at Grantaire. Any worry that Grantaire had over Enjolras not recognising him evaporated instantly. Enjolras not only recognised him, it was clear the he was horrified that Grantaire was here.

 

Grantaire’s musings were interrupted as Hubert grabbed Enjolras’ hair and pulled it viciously before delivering a slap to his face.

“How dare you!” he roared, forcing Enjolras down to his knees. “How dare you look them in the eye as though you’re equal to them. And I thought you could behave without punishment tonight! Never mind, I’ll see to that when we get home tonight.” Enjolras visibly paled at hearing this. “I apologise, my friends,” Hubert continued, “he’s usually better trained than this. I hope you are not offended.”

“There’s no harm done,” Grantaire’s father laughed, while Grantaire was too enraged to speak. How _dare_ he strike Enjolras. “Let’s have him over here. He can make up for his mistake with his mouth.”

“Go on, slut. You heard him,” Hubert growled when Enjolras did not move and Enjolras hurriedly crawled towards Grantaire’s father. Grantaire himself was desperately trying to think of a way to keep this from happening. He could not, however. The best he could do was try to take Enjolras away after.

 

Enjolras open M. Grantaire’s trousers and pulled his cock out. He did not hesitate before taking it into his mouth. It was obvious that he was well practised at this and the thought turned Grantaire’s stomach. He saw his father twist his hands into Enjolras’ hair and push his head down forcefully. He had never hated his father more than he did in that moment. After what seemed like an eternity M. Grantaire finished in Enjolras’ mouth. Enjolras swallowed without complaint.

 

Grantaire was foolish enough to feel relief for a second because at least that was over, right? It couldn’t get worse than him having to watch his father use Enjolras, could it? He was proven wrong when Enjolras then crawled to kneel at his feet with his head bowed.

“May I suck you, sir?” he asked, submissively.

 

Grantaire tried to conceal his horror. He had though that Enjolras had recognised him earlier but clearly that couldn’t be true. Was Enjolras so far gone that he had no memory of his life before this? He must be. The alternative, that Enjolras remembered and thought Grantaire would want to rape him anyway, was too unthinkable. But that could be dealt with later. He needed to focus now; he’d already taken a little too long to answer.

“No,” he said, desperately trying to think of a reason to refuse, for he knew he would be questioned. He could not say that Enjolras was not to his taste. Not with what he planned to do later. So why could he refuse?

“What?” asked Hubert. “Does he not please you?”

“He is very beautiful, there’s no doubt about that,” Grantaire replied, feigning a smile. “However, I am spent from earlier activities. My mistress is a demanding little thing sometimes.”

 

The men laughed and Grantaire’s father clapped him on the shoulder affectionately. Then, they continued on with their sick games. Grantaire had to watch, pretending to smile as Enjolras was used in every conceivable way possible. He desperately tried to remind himself that the only way he could save Enjolras was to take him away once this horror was over. That if he interfered now he’d only end up getting thrown from the room and Enjolras would be taken home with that monster.

 

At last, it was over. Enjolras was left kneeling at Hubert’s feet, naked, bruised, and covered in fluids. He was trembling. The men one by one progressed back into the main ballroom, until it was finally just Grantaire and Hubert left in the room. He would have to play this carefully.

“He really is very lovely,” Grantaire remarked, in what he hoped was a conversational tone.

“Yes, he is. You’d almost think he was a painting come to life.”

“Very true. You said your wife was not happy with you buying him?”

“Yes. She believes that we do not have the funds to spend on such frivolities.” From the discomforted smile he gave, Grantaire could see it was true.

“I could take him off your hands,” he offered carefully. “I feel jealous not being able to sample him myself, tonight. I would pay you twice what you originally payed for him.” Hubert looked tempted but then he frowned.

“I’d be sorry to see him go. He’s too much fun to play with.”

“Surely not so much fun that he’s worth whatever financial difficulty you’ve found yourself in?”

“You’re right, I suppose. Still…”

“It would not have to be the last time you get to play with him,” Grantaire offered desperately, knowing that despite what he promised he would never let this man touch Enjolras again.

“And you have the funds? He cost me a significant amount.” Grantaire indicated that he did. It was true, he had money saved up from the money he’d made from the last few paintings he’d sold.

“I suppose I really should,” said Hubert. “Can you have the funds sent to me by the day after tomorrow?”

“You reside in Tours, do you not? I’m currently residing in Orléans; it should not be a problem. I would like to take him tonight though. To save myself a journey.”

“Of course.”

“How much is it you require for him?”

“20,000 francs.”

 

Grantaire breathed a sigh of relief. That was well within his price range.

“You’ll have it by tomorrow,” he promised, offering his hand for the man to shake. Hubert did and then took up Enjolras leash, pulling him over to Grantaire’s feet. He then handed the leash to Grantaire.

“This man is your master now,” he said to Enjolras, sharply. “You obey him.”

 

Enjolras kept his head down and said nothing. Hubert left soon enough and Grantaire called for his carriage to be brought round the kitchen exit and for his parents to be informed that he was leaving. He had much to discuss with Enjolras but he doesn’t dare until they’re alone. Almost immediately a servant returned to inform Grantaire that his carriage was ready.

“Come,” he said to Enjolras gently and to his horror the man started to crawl behind him.

“No!” he cried and cursed himself when Enjolras shrank down as through he expected to be hit. “I mean, you can walk.”

 

Enjolras slowly got to his feet, trembling violently. Grantaire turned and walked out of the room with Enjolras walking a respectful distance behind him. Thankfully, they made it to the carriage without anyone else seeing them. As soon as they were inside Enjolras fell to his knees between Grantaire’s legs, whispering frantically. It took a moment of careful listening for Grantaire to figure out what was being said.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry, master. I know I’m not allowed. I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise. I’m sorry-”

"Shhh, Enjolras. It's alright," Grantaire whispered, soothingly. "I will not harm you. I would never harm you. Have you no recollection of who I am?"

 

Enjolras ceased whispering and simply knelt there, shaking.

"Won't you come sit up here? The journey takes around two hours. That's a long time to kneel for." Enjolras began to tremble even more.

"No master, please. I can be good, I promise. You don't have to test me."

"I'm not trying to test you, or trick you. I just don't want you to be uncomfortable." Enjolras simply looked at him fearfully.

"Alright, you can stay down there." Enjolras visibly relaxed.

"Thank you, master," he muttered. Then he leaned down and kissed Grantaire's shoe. Grantaire was stupefied for a moment. Then he almost laughed bitterly. How long ago was it that he'd offered to do the same thing for the man now at his feet and been harshly rejected?

 

Evidently, letting Enjolras know that he was safe now was not going to be easy. Every attempt to treat him better than he had been treated so far had resulted in panic. This would take time and patience, but Grantaire knew he could give that, and more, for Enjolras. He could do anything to help Enjolras feel safe again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I'm absolutely blown away at the response that this fic has gotten. You're all awesome and I hope you're not disappointed with this new chapter.

Arriving at his master's home was terrifying in a familiar way. It was unnacountably large and there were people staring at him as he was lead through the halls by his master. At least he'd been allowed to crawl this time so he wouldn't be punished for that. He already broken too many rules. He’d walked and he'd not obeyed an order and then he'd _lied_ to his master. He was being bad, he was being so bad, and he was going to be punished for it, he knew.

 

But it wasn't fair. He master had _told_ him to stand and he'd had to obey. And then his master had told him to sit in the carriage but he couldn't do it. He remembered the last time he'd been taught that he wasn't allowed to use the furniture like he was a person instead of a worthless object for his master's use. The memory of whips and canes and blood, and not being able to do anything but kneel up for a week because it hurt too much for anything to touch him there, was far too vivid in his mind. And then he'd _lied_. His master had asked if he remembered him, if Enjolras knew who he was, and he'd _lied_. He hadn't said no, not really, but he hadn't said yes. He'd lied all the same and when his master found out he would be furious.

 

But he wasn't allowed to remember before, when he'd been Enjolras and not slave, or slut, or whore, or bitch, or thing. Before, when he'd had friends and a cause and a _life_. But he wasn't allowed to remember that.

 

He wasn't allowed to remember Grantaire, who'd watched him so closely, who’d been  obsessed with him, who wanted to bed him so badly, who now _owned him_ \- He cut himself off, because he wasn't allowed to remember and besides, his master was leading him into a room.

 

His master stopped in front of the amoire and Enjolras knelt in the middle of the room in his "waiting for orders" pose. His hands resting gently on his thighs with the palms facing down and his head up, looking at his master.

"Here," his master said, taking something out of the amoire. "It's one of my old shirts. It will likely drown you, but it'll do well enough to sleep in." He held it out to Enjolras. Enjolras took it hesitantly but made no move to put it on.

"Master, you... you wish me to wear this?"

"I do. Is there a problem?"

"No, master. But, people wear clothes. Slaves don't need clothes."

"You are not a slave, Enjolras!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Master is right. I'm an object. No better than furniture." Enjolras was cringing in on himself now, and Grantaire tried to calm himself down.

"It's alright, Enjolras. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at the people who did this to you. Who made you believe these things about yourself."

"I'm sorry you're dissatisfied with my training, master."

"No, that's not what I meant." Grantaire sighed. "Get dressed. It's late, we should go to bed. We'll talk more in the morning."

 

Enjolras relaxed minutely. At least this he knew how to do. He did not enjoy being used, but it was the best way to make his masters happy. And if they were happy they often punished him less. He was probably even still open from being fucked earlier so it might not even hurt that much. He dressed as his master bid him, reminding himself that it was his master's right to dress him as he wished, which included giving him particular outfits as well as denying him clothes at all.

 

When he was dressed, his master smiled at him approvingly and Enjolras felt a thrill of something that was almost happiness run through him. He was doing well! His happiness was gone almost instantly though with what his master said next.

"You'll stay in here, in case that wasn't obvious."

 

No. _No._ No, that was too cruel. He couldn't do that again. He _couldn't_. He had known he would have to be punished but this was too much. To be left all alone in the dark, with no light, no sound, nobody, and for so long. Months and months. He didn't need to be taught that lesson again, he'll never try to run away again because he _knows_ now, he'd been _shown_. He knows what life is like without masters, and it was dark and silent and cold and so, so lonely. And masters were so good to him, to keep him, to let him be near them so he wouldn't have to go live in the darkness again. That's why he had to serve them. Because they deserve it. Because they are so good to him. He needed to stop this, to do something so his master won't leave him alone again. What should he do? Please, what should he do? Begging! Masters like begging!

 

"Please," he begged, with tears in his eyes, grasping onto the hem of his masters trousers and clutching on to it. "Please, master. I'm sorry for being bad, I'm sorry I lied and stood up and didn't obey. Please, I'll take any punishment you want, just please not this. I can punish myself for you if you'd like, if you don't want to waste your time." At this his master made a noise, probably of arousal, so Enjolras continued like that. "I could punish myself and you could watch and laugh at the little slut who's so desperate to please you that he'd hurt himself for you. And I could serve you so well afterwards, master, to thank you for the privilege. I could fuck myself on you like a desperate little whore, you wouldn't need to do a thing, I could make you cum so har-"

"Stop! God, Enjolras. Stop talking."

Enjolras fell silent quickly, hoping that he'd been convincing enough.

 

“Explain to me how you think I’m going to punish you,” Grantaire said, in a voice which he thought was remarkably calm considering the circumstance.

“Master will leave me here all alone in the dark for so long because I’ve been a bad slave. I’m sorry, master.”

“That’s been done to you before?”

“Yes, master. I was being very bad and I tried to escape, before I understood how kind mast- my former master was being to me.”

“He left you with no light, no sound, nothing?”

“Yes, master.”

 

 “I’m not going to punish you, Enjolras. I’m not going to leave you alone.” Enjolras’ eyes widened in surprise and he practically fell over himself to reach Grantaire’s boots, pressing kisses to them. His master was so good to him, so merciful.

“Thank you, master. Thank you for your mercy,” he muttered, in between kisses. “Would you like to see me to punish myself now master? Or would you prefer to wait until morning so you can properly enjoy the sight?”

“No, Enjolras. You don’t understand, you’re not going to be punished at all.”

“But I’ve been bad, master,” Enjolras reminded him hesitantly. It wouldn’t do to make his situation even worse by trying to avoid punishment.

“Explain to me how you’ve been bad.”

Enjolras hated this, hated being made to list out loud how he hadn’t been good enough, but he obeyed anyway, of course.

“I stood and walked, when I’m not allowed to, when I should crawl so that no one can confuse me with an actual person. I didn’t obey when I was ordered to sit on the seat in the carriage. I should always obey, even when I think it will get me in trouble, because my master’s wishes are all that is important. I lied to my master and that is unforgivable. I’m sorry master, ple-”

“What do you mean, lied? What did you lie about?”

“I pretended I didn’t remember before. I know I’m not allowed to remember but I’m not allowed to lie either and lying is worse and I’m sorry-”

“No, no. It's alright, Enjolras. If you remember before then you must remember who I am, surely? You must know I would not harm you."

"I remember you, master," Enjolras said quietly, looking at the ground.

"Then why do you think that I'll still hurt you?"

"Being hurt is all I deserve, master. I'm never good enough." He didn't say the other part. That he'd been so cruel to his master -to _Grantaire_ \- before. He'd spurned him constantly and now the man owned him. He could take exactly what he wanted from Enjolras now, be that pain, or blood, or tears, or _sex_. Or all of them at once. What man would pass that up, once given the opportunity?

"That's not true, Enjolras. That's not true at all."

"Yes, master." Agree with them, always agree. Even when it doesn't make sense. Even when they're wrong.

 

His master sighed. He seemed frustrated, which meant nothing good for him.

"Would you prefer sleeping in my room with me to being in here alone?"

"Yes master, please. Anything you want! I'll do anything you want, just please don't leave me alone!"

"Shhh, shhh," his master said and he fell silent immediately because he was good. "You don't have to beg. Just follow me."

 

He did, happily crawling behind his master. He would be so good for his master tonight, no matter what he wanted to do to him. His master was being so kind to him, so generous, and he was so grateful. He'd make sure to show his gratitude properly.

 

They arrived at the room and Grantaire turned to look at him.

"You take the bed. I'll just be over there on the couch, you won't be alone." Enjolras felt sick. He hated these kinds of tricks. There was no way to win with them; he'd be punished no matter what he did.

 

He pressed his head forward onto the floor and trembled.

"Please, master," he whispered, almost in tears. "Please. I know I'm not allowed to use the furniture. I can be used on the furniture if it pleases my master, but never use it. You don't have to test me, please master."

"If I order you to then wouldn't that be alright?" his master asked in a strained voice.

He wasn't going to fall for it. It was a trick, it was always a trick. They told him to do something that wasn't allowed and then laughed at him and punished him when he did it.

"Please, master..."

"It's alright," his master said, sounding bizzarely like he was sad. "You don't have to. Where... where _should_ you sleep in here?" Enjolras liked tests like this. He could pass tests like this and prove he knew his place.

"On the floor at the foot of my master's bed, if my master is kind enough to allow me that."

"What about at the foot of the bed, on the bed?"

"That… that can be a very special reward. The kind that I've never earned. Please, master. Don't make me, I know I haven't earned it."

"Shhh, shhh. It's alright. You can sleep on the floor. Stay here for a minute, I need to go get something."

 

His master left and Enjolras waited tensely for him to return with whatever it was he needed. Perhaps a whip? Or a crop? Or maybe a cane? He knew that he'd disobeyed and order by not laying on the bed but then his master had said he didn't have to. So perhaps he wasn't being punished? Then again, that didn't mean he wouldn't be hurt. His master didn't need a reason to hurt him if he wished to. He could do whatever he wanted.

 

It had been a few minutes now and he was starting to panic. His master hadn't come back and what if he wasn't coming back? What if he was going to leave him all alone? Please, no. He wished he could go and find him and apologise and beg. But he wasn't allowed. His master had told him to stay.

 

His master returned less than a minute later and he had to restrain himself from breathing an audible sigh of relief. He had a large bundle in his arms and Enjolras looked at it apprehensively. His master placed the bundle at the foot of the bed and started to arrange it. After a while Enjolras noted that the bundle was, in fact, pillows and blankets.

He stared in amazement. Surely that couldn't be... there _had_ to be something wrong with them. They must be scratchy, or disgusting, or soaked in something that would burn. Eventually, his master was satisfied with the layout.

"In you get," he said to Enjolras. Enjolras obeyed and nearly gasped in surprise when he did. It was comfortable. It was soft and warm and close and safe and it felt so good. He could almost cry at how good it felt.

"How is that?" his master asked. "How do you feel?"

"It is... pleasant, master," Enjolras replied tentatively, hoping that his master wouldn't take it away from him but knowing that he probably would.

"Good. If you need anything during the night you can come and wake me up, alright?"

"Yes, master," Enjolras replied, knowing that he would never be so foolish as to wake his master up.

"Goodnight, Enjolras."

"Goodnight, master."

 

Enjolras lay there silently, wondering if this was some sort of trick. His master hadn’t used him at all before going to bed. Surely, he would be up in a minute to sample his new slave. Then he recalled his master saying earlier that he had already expended himself with his mistress. That explained it. A mistress did not bide well for Enjolras, though. A mistress was someone with whom he had to compete for his master's attention. Enjolras would just have to please his master very well, so that it would be the mistress, and not he, who was set aside. Enjolras shivered as he remembered something else that his master had said this evening. That his former master might still be allowed to opportunity to use him. He did not want that. Already his new master was much better and he did not wish to see his old one ever again. He hoped that his master might reconsider. Perhaps if he was good and performed his duties well enough his master might want to keep him for himself? He would have to be sure to be very good for his master and besides, his master deserved his very best. He'd given him blankets and let him sleep at the foot of his bed. He had to be the best he could in order to display his gratitude for such kindness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear any thoughts you have about the story so far...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the wonderful comments, I promise I am going to answer them eventually. I just wanted to focus on the chapter first.

Grantaire woke the next morning to find Enjolras kneeling next to his bed, with his head bowed. Fuck, that had actually happened then. What in God’s name was he going to do? He sat up quickly and tried not to panic.  
“Enjolras? Is everything alright? What are you doing?” he asked, hurriedly.  
“Waiting for you to wake up, master.” Grantaire couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that but the longer he remained silent the more nervous Enjolras seemed to become.  
“I- you didn’t give me any other task for this morning master, and I did not have permission to leave the room to go and fetch your breakfast. I’m sorry, master.”  
“No, no. Everything’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He didn’t want to say the next part; it seemed so patronising but he knew it was what Enjolras needed to hear. “You were… good.” Enjolras beamed at him.  
“Thank you, master.”

God, he hated that word. Every time he heard it, it was like a knife in his heart, reminding him of what Enjolras had gone through.  
“You don’t have to call me that, Enjolras. You may call me by my name.”

He immediately knew that he shouldn’t have done that. Enjolras went from relaxed and happy to terrified in less than a second.  
“Enjolras, what’s wrong?” Grantaire cried. Enjolras was breathing quickly and looked like he was trying not cry.  
“Please, master! I know better! I promise I do! You don’t have to test me!” Grantaire took a breath and tried to keep himself calm. He could hate himself for making Enjolras panic later.  
“What do you think I’m going to do to you?”  
“Gag me so that I can’t speak so disrespectfully, without proper titles. Leave it until it hurts so badly I would do anything to have it taken out. Make me do something humiliating and awful to have it taken out. U-use my mouth while I can’t close it because it hurts too much,” Enjolras sobbed. Grantaire’s blood boiled   
“How could they do that to you!” he cried. “That is monstrous!”  
“But I deserved it, master. I deserve everything my master wishes to do to me because I’m lucky to not be left alone.”  
“That’s not true Enjolras. That’s not true at all.”  
“Yes, master,” Enjolras said, not believing it at all. Grantaire flinched at the title this time and that made Enjolras panic again.  
“I’m sorry, master! I can’t speak so disrespectfully to you. Please punish me how you see fit.”  
“Shhh, it’s alright. I’m not going to punish you. What about if you called me sir? You did that last night, that would be ok wouldn’t it?”  
“But- but you did not own me last night, m-master.”  
“No, but it’s still respectful. Do you think you can manage that?” Grantaire himself hated it, but it was still better than “master”, and if it made Enjolras feel safer then that was worth it.  
“Yes, ma- sir. Please punish me if I fail.”  
“Shhh, you don’t have to worry Enjolras. I’m never going to punish you. Not ever.”

It seems that was the wrong thing to say because Enjolras now looked to be close to a fully-fledged panic attack. Which left Grantaire barely any calmer than him.  
“Oh, no. Enjolras, what did I say?” he asked, dismayed.  
“Please, sir. Please don’t say that, don’t do that. I need my master to punish me when I’m bad so I can be better, otherwise I’ll be ignored again, because I’m not worth anything when I’m not serving my master.”

Those words sounded as though they’d been said from rote, and Grantaire hated to think how Enjolras had learned them.  
“Shhh, I’m not going to ignore you Enjolras. You’ll never be alone, I promise.”  
“Please, please say you’ll punish me, sir. I could earn it, sir. I could do whatever you want to compensate you for having to waste your time on correcting your slave.” He wanted to earn being punished. Enjolras wanted to earn being punished. Grantaire felt profoundly, deeply sad all of a sudden.  
“I’ll punish you when you’ve been bad,” he said, thickly. “You don’t have to earn it.” He would just have to say that Enjolras had never been bad.  
“Thank you, sir.” With that, Enjolras leaned forwards and kissed Grantaire’s feet. When he did Grantaire saw that he had dried bits of semen on the back of his neck that his hair had been covering. Upon closer inspection it was obvious that Enjolras was still covered with the fluids from last night. It was even in his hair.

“I’m so sorry, Enjolras. I didn’t think. You’re covered in- you should have a bath.”  
“Yes, sir,” Enjolras replied quietly, and Grantaire immediately knew something was wrong.  
“Is there something frightening about that?” he asked.  
“No, sir,” Enjolras answered, and he wasn’t lying, Grantaire knew. Not after his reaction to lying before. Still, Grantaire could tell something wasn’t quite right.  
“Tell me what you think is going to happen now,” he ordered, gently.  
“You will take me outside and throw buckets of cold water over me to clean me, sir. Since my appearance is not acceptable. Or perhaps you will have your servants do it, so you don’t have to trouble yourself, sir”  
“That’s not what’s going to happen at all. I’ll have my servants heat up some water and put it in a bathtub, that will be brought into a separate room. Then you’ll get in and wash yourself. With soap. Alright?”  
“Yes, sir. Thank you for your generosity, sir.” Grantaire wanted to tell Enjolras that he didn’t have to thank him but he’d seen what happened when he contradicted what Enjolras had been conditioned to believe too much. He would not make Enjolras panic any more today, he promised himself.  
“While we wait for the water to be heated we’ll have breakfast.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Stay here a moment, I’m going to go and have the servants heat the water.”  
“Yes, sir.”

Grantaire went and found Floréal, who was one of the most terrifyingly competent people Grantaire has ever met and was probably the only reason Grantaire had made it through the loss of his friends. He met her in the corridor almost as soon as he had exited the room.  
“René,” she cried. She was one of the few people who called him by his birth name, as she’d taken care of him as a child. “I was just coming to wake you. The entire estate’s in a frenzy. Or did you think no one would notice that you came home last night with a naked young man crawling after you? I swear child, you’d better have a good explanation for this!”  
“I do, I do!” he exclaimed hurriedly, not wishing to earn Floréal’s wrath. “He is an old friend of mine! He’s found himself in a bad way and I had to help him. Floréal, the things that have been done to him-” he cut himself off with a sob, finally able to react to all he’s heard without upsetting Enjolras.

“There, there,” Floréal said, taking him into her arms and shushing him like she used to do when he was a child. “I’m sure you’ll help him. I’m sure you’ll do whatever has to be done to help him.”  
“It’s Enjolras,” he sobbed. “He’s Enjolras.” Floréal looked momentarily startled.  
“Well then,” she said, “I know that you’ll move heaven and earth to help him, if that’s what it takes. Now I assume you wanted something?”

“Yes,” he replied, drying his tears. “Could you have a bath prepared in the blue room and have breakfast sent up to us. Some bread, cheese, and apples will do. Oh, and will you make an appointment with the tailor for tomorrow?”  
“Of course, Réne. Now get back to that boy of yours. I’ll inform everyone about him.”  
“What would I ever do without you?”  
“I shudder to think. Now go!” He did, throwing her a cheeky wink that he knew reassured her more than anything.

When he returned Enjolras was kneeling right where he’d left him, looking visibly relieved that he was back. He noted that leaving Enjolras alone, even for a few moments, distressed him, and vowed not to do it if he didn’t have to.  
“Breakfast will be here momentarily, and then you can take your bath.”  
“Yes, sir.”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Once Grantaire called for them to come in they entered. There were two of them, a boy and girl, both of them young and both of them trying to stare at Enjolras without looking like they were staring at him.  
“Put it on the table and leave,” he said sternly and both their gazes jumped to his guiltily. Aurélie and Luc, if he wasn’t mistaken. He’d be having words with them later. They deposited the food where he’d told them to and then left, but not before sneaking one last glance at Enjolras.

He turned to Enjolras as soon as they left but he didn’t seem particularly bothered by the staring. In fact, he seemed oddly pleased by something. Perhaps it was just that they now had food, as Grantaire was just remembering that they hadn’t eaten anything last night, and who knew when Enjolras had last eaten before that. Or drank anything for that matter. God, he would have to do better than this.

He took a seat at the table and wasn’t even surprised when Enjolras crawled to come kneel at his side. He doubted there was much chance that he could get Enjolras to sit in one of the other chairs at the table and he didn’t want to panic him again so he let him kneel.  
“What would you like to eat Enjolras?”  
“Whatever you care to feed me, sir.” Grantaire sighed, but that answer wasn’t exactly unexpected. But wait-  
“Feed you?”  
“A slave may only eat what their master feeds them. You needn’t worry, sir. I know the rules,” Enjolras answered meekly but cheerfully, and Grantaire could only hope that his sudden good mood meant something good rather than the far more likely opposite. It seemed he would be feeding Enjolras by hand. It’s better than panicking him, he told himself.

He took up a jug that Floréal had thoughtfully added to the things that he’d requested (and where would he be without that woman) and poured it into one of the glasses. It was orange juice, as it turned out. He offered the glass to Enjolras, who, instead of taking it, immediately put his lips to it and started sucking ardently. Grantaire realised he was trying to drink the liquid without tipping the glass at all from the angle at which Grantaire had offered it, which was straight up. It was an impossible endeavour, which Enjolras’ desperation showed. Grantaire realised that he was going to have to have Enjolras drink from his hand as well and tipped the glass gently allowing the liquid the reach Enjolras’ mouth at a manageable rate. At least half of it ended up pouring across Enjolras’ face and Grantaire had to stop halfway through the glass for fear of Enjolras throwing it back up if he drank it too quickly. Enjolras looked like he wanted to grab it back when it was taken away but, of course, he wouldn’t.  
“You can have more later,” Grantaire reassured him.  
“Yes, sir. Thank you for letting me have some.”  
“You’re welcome.”

Grantaire began cutting up the cheese and apples into pieces that it would be easy to feed someone. Enjolras watched him avidly. When he was done he held out a piece of apple for Enjolras to take. He almost choked when Enjolras sucked lightly on his fingers after he’d taken it, looking up at him with glazed eyes. Was Enjolras trying to seduce him? He fed him a piece of cheese and the same thing happened. Grantaire shivered. No. He had to get a hold of himself. It didn’t matter if Enjolras was acting like he wanted nothing more than for Grantaire to fuck him, he clearly just doing what he’d been conditioned to do, and there was nothing on Earth that could entice Grantaire to hurt Enjolras like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right. Floréal is older an Grantaire and looked after him when he was little. Why? Because... fight me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some pretty graphic stuff i this chapter, just as a warning...

Enjolras was much more relaxed than he’d been since he’d arrived at his new master’s home. Here he was, on his knees, with his master feeding him, and everything made sense now. Why his master had been so gentle with him, why he seemed to want to give Enjolras unnecessary luxuries like blankets, and food that was still fresh and didn’t have disgusting fuzzy bits on it, and a bath in an actual bathtub, with warm water. He was going to be a pet. A _pet._ Enjolras beamed internally.

 

His first master had talked about being a pet as something he could hope for one day. A reward that he could perhaps earn if he was very good. Enjolras hadn’t believed him at first. That was back when he’d thought he was a person, back when he’d been bad constantly, and being a pet had seemed humiliating and degrading. Over time though, he’d begun to understand. He was less than an animal, he was an object to be hurt and used for his master’s pleasure. That would still be true if he was a pet, but as a pet he might occasionally earn a reward, or even better, praise.

 

His first master had deemed him no good for anything but housework, and fucking, and punishing, his second just fucking and punishing, but it seemed his new master wanted to be kind to him. He hadn’t understood at first, he’d been stupid and frightened, but he did now. He’d understood when his master’s servants had come in and he’d been so sharp with them. It wasn’t that his master wasn’t capable of being harsh, it was that he was choosing not to be to Enjolras. Therefore, Enjolras must be a pet. Now he just had to make sure that he was a good pet and pleased his master, otherwise things might go back to how they were with his previous masters. So he allowed himself to relax and let his joy at realising he was a pet show. Pets are supposed to be relaxed and happy. He showed his appreciation for his master by sucking on his fingers after he’d been fed something, trying to be enticing, trying to please. Perhaps this master would even be as gentle in bedding him as he was in everything else.

 

When the food was gone, and Enjolras was feeling neither hungry or thirsty for the first time in a very long time, his master announced that it was time for his bath. Enjolras dutifully crawled after him to a different room where there was a bathtub already filled with hot water.

“In you get,” his master ordered.

 

Enjolras complied and when he sank into the hot water he did not manage to contain a groan. His master smiled at him and chuckled before he had time to worry.

“Like that?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Thank you _,_ thank you so much, _”_ he replied sincerely, reaching out to kiss his master’s hand since he could not reach his feet. This was the best he’d ever felt, Enjolras was sure.

“You’re welcome.”

 

His master handed Enjolras the soap, and Enjolras knew this, he’d been taught this. He had to put on a show. He started by trailing his hands across his shoulders while rubbing the soap into them, and was gratified when his master’s eyes followed the movement. He continued over his torso, faking a gasp when he rubbed his nipples, and then moved his hand lower down. He paused above his cock, looking to his master for permission.

“May I have permission to touch my cock in order to clean it, sir?”

“You need permission for that?”

“Yes, sir. I know I do.”

“You can touch your… cock.”

“Thank you, sir.”

 

He made sure to clean himself thoroughly, so that he would be ready for his master’s use later, but he was also careful that he didn’t take any pleasure he hadn’t earned. That wasn’t allowed. That was very bad. Even if this master hadn’t locked his cock up yet. Eventually he’d washed his entire body and felt a lot cleaner than he had in a long time. He looked to his master for instructions.

 

“Are you ready to get out?” he asked. His master had such a strange way of phrasing things.

“Yes, sir.” He climbed out of the tub and took the towel his master handed him. As he dried himself his master spoke.

“Explain to me why you’re not allowed to touch your cock,” he ordered gently, and everything was so gentle with this master. There were so many tests though. He supposed his master wanted to make sure that his new pet was up to standard.

“Because I’m not allowed to have any pleasure that my master doesn’t allow me.”

“I see. And touching yourself there is still pleasurable for you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It is not uncomfortable for you?”

“Uncomfortable, sir?”

“Is it something you’d rather not be doing?”

“I will gladly do whatever my master wishes me to do.”

 

It seemed that he’d answered correctly because his master ceased questioning him then, and there was no punishment. His master then handed the nightshirt back to him.

“You’ll have to wear that again; there’s nothing else that would fit you and the tailor’s not coming until tomorrow.”

 

Tailor? Was his master going to have outfits specifically designed for him? No doubt something revealing to make him look fuckable and appealing. He supposed it would be better than being naked, but he almost wished he could keep wearing the nightshirt.

 

He was lead into a different room downstairs after he had put the nightshirt on. His master had brought the pile of blankets and pillows that he had slept in last night, and why hadn’t he had Enjolras carry it? This new master made very little sense sometimes. He deposited the blankets at the foot of an easel.

“I’m going to paint. Will you be alright lying there?”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras replied, overjoyed. Nothing bad was going to happen. He was allowed to just lie down and be close to his master, exactly like a pet should be doing. It might be difficult to not fall asleep, though. Having not been given permission to sleep last night he was very tired but he couldn’t allow himself to fall asleep no matter how tired he was. He burrowed down into the blankets and made sure he looked pleasingly relaxed and comfortable for his master. Then he focused on not falling asleep without permission.

 

It was difficult. This was the most comfortable he’d been for a very long time and it was so relaxing just to lay there and listen to his master moving around. The quiet background noise was just enough to let him know that his master was still present. He realised his eyes had slipped closed without him meaning to close them. He forced them open again and blinked blearily up at his master. This wasn’t working; he was going to fall asleep. Dare he ask permission for it? His master had been very generous with him so far, so he might allow it. However, he didn’t want to risk asking for too much and losing his master’s favour. He was so tired though. He ached to rest just for a moment. He had to force his eyes open once again, not having realised that they had closed. That forced him to make a decision. He was going to fall asleep anyway. It was better to ask permission and be denied than to disobey.

 

“S- sir?” he whispered tentatively. His master looked down at him. “May I have your permission to sleep for a little while, please sir? If you don’t need me for anything else?”

“Yes, of course you can sleep. Does- does this mean that you didn’t sleep last night?”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t have permission to. Thank you for letting me sleep now.”

“You’re welcome.” Enjolras thought his master’s voice might have trembled then, but he must have imagined it. There was no reason for his master to be distressed.

 

Enjolras let himself relax completely and burrowed into the blankets. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_“Fuck you!” Enjolras snarled, thrashing against the restraints that held him face down on the table._

_“Oh, no. I don’t think so,” the man who’d taken him chuckled. “I rather think the opposite will be happening. Now, you have one last chance to open your mouth and suck me like a good boy, or else I fuck you somewhere that’s going to be much less pleasant for you.”_

_Enjolras just glared at him._

_“Very well,” the man sighed with false regret. “Just know that this could have been much more pleasant for you if you had only behaved.”_

 

_The National Guardsman climbed on top of him as Enjolras thrashed even harder against his restraints. He unfastened his trousers and lined himself up with Enjolras’ hole. Then he paused, chuckling cruelly and letting Enjolras feel the inevitability of what was about to happen. He pushed in hard, and Enjolras screamed, feeling himself forced open, torn open, without any preparation. It was agony. An agony which only got worse, not better, as his captor moved inside him. He sobbed and screamed but all that seemed to do was arouse the man further. After what seemed an eternity the man finished inside him and pulled out._

 

_“There,” his captor cooed mockingly, “don’t you wish you’d just obeyed me in the first place, now?” He pushed two of his fingers back inside Enjolras, making him cry out and start thrashing again. He pulled them out, covered in a mixture of semen and blood, and held the fingers in front of Enjolras’ face._

_“Lick them clean,” the man ordered. “Unless you’d like me to fuck you again? Perhaps with one of my bigger, fake cocks this time?”_

_“No,” Enjolras sobbed. “No, please.”_

_“Lick them clean then.”_

 

_Enjolras obeyed, still sobbing and trying not to gag at the taste of semen and blood mixed together. When he was done, the man patted him on the head, calling him a “good boy” before leaving him tied to the table, still spread out and feeling very vulnerable. It wasn’t long before his sobs escalated, turning into screams._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Enjolras! Enjolras wake up!”

 

Enjolras shot awake, disorientated and confused. He looked around uncomprehendingly for a few moments, his heart pounding and his breathing heavy, before he realised that he was in his new master’s home, that his master sprawled on the floor a few feet away, and that he was the reason for that.

 

He knelt up quickly and pressed his head to the floor, with his hands of either side of his head, waiting for his master to decide what to do with him.

“Enjolras,” his master asked, carefully. _Why carefully, that didn’t make sense._ “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, master. I didn’t mean to startle you. Please punish me how you see fit.”

“No, it’s alright Enjolras. You were having a nightmare, it’s not your fault.”

“But I disturbed you, sir.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean to. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

 

Oh. If his master said he hadn’t done anything wrong then he can’t have done, can he? Perhaps everything was okay? There was something though… something the back of his mind that he’d done wrong. His master must surely know… master! That was it!

“But I called you ‘master’, sir! That isn’t allowed, you said so! Please, sir. Please punish me?”

 

His master looked at him conflictedly. Perhaps he did not wish to waste his time punishing his slave? Perhaps he had decided that Enjolras was too much trouble to be around?

“Alright,” his master said, and Enjolras almost collapsed with relief. “You’ll write lines as a punishment. Wait here a moment.”

 

Enjolras watched as his master walked across the room and retrieved a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. He brought it back to Enjolras and placed a large book in front of him.

“You can lean on that. It’s Chenier; that should amuse you. I want you to write “Grantaire does not wish for me to be hurt’ fifty times for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras replied.

 

This was a strange type of punishment, Enjolras mused. It did not involve any pain and it seemed familiar somehow. Something from before. He drove his thoughts away from that quickly. He wasn’t allowed to remember. He focused on taking up the pen, trying to find a comfortable way to hold it. There! That seemed to be right. Now the only obstacle was writing the words. He hadn’t written anything in such a long time. His first attempt was shaky and practically illegible, but as it went on he became smoother in a way that was very satisfying. He could almost enjoy this, he thought, if he were allowed to. Though, he couldn’t of course. This was a punishment, even if it was a gentle one. Perhaps pets got gentle punishments? That might explain it.

 

When he was finished with his punishment he stopped up the ink and shifted back so that he was kneeling more comfortably to wait for his master’s attention. It didn’t take longer than a minute for his master to notice that he’d finished. He stopped painting immediately.

“Are you finished?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Show me.”

 

Enjolras held the paper out to him and waited tensely while his master looked at it. Eventually his master smiled.

“This is very good, Enjolras. Well done.”

 

Enjolras felt like he was shining. He’d pleased his master and been praised for it, and he’d been punished and it hadn’t been awful. He was so lucky to have this master. He was so kind to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hopefully it's not too awful. I didn't really like this chapter much...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is a new chapter... I did warn already about irregular updates, right?
> 
> Anyway, I aware I have been lax in replying to comments lately and I promise I am going to do it right now.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, for which Grantaire was grateful. He and Enjolras shared another hand-fed meal and soon enough it was time to retire for the evening once more.

 

Enjolras remained knelt in the middle of the room as Grantaire dressed for bed. He could feel the man’s eyes on him as he did so, but he tried to not let it bother him. Enjolras had probably been trained to watch his masters, in case they needed anything from him. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like his every flaw was on display and being catalogued by the man he’d worshipped for years. He shook himself. It was a miniscule price to pay for Enjolras’ comfort. So that Enjolras wouldn’t look as terrified as he had when he’d thought that he was going to be left alone.

 

Once he was dressed he turned to face Enjolras and ordered him to get into his blankets. He detested that Enjolras had to sleep on the floor. Enjolras’ ridiculously comfortable bed had been the one luxury the boy had allowed himself before the barricades. The one reminder of the life he had left behind in the south when he had come to Paris. His only indulgence. Now Enjolras was acting as though he wasn’t worthy of using furniture at all, and it made Grantaire’s blood boil with rage towards the men who’d done this to him.

 

Enjolras, at least, seemed happy in the blankets. Who knows what conditions he’d been made to sleep in before. This was undoubtedly better. But Grantaire should really stop staring, Enjolras was becoming apprehensive.

 

“You have my permission to sleep tonight, for as long as you like. It’s also alright if you can’t sleep. Do you understand, Enjolras?”

 

“Yes, sir. Thank you for your generosity.” Another kiss pressed to his feet, another sweet little smile directed towards him. It was the smile that worried him more than anything.

“Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

 

Grantaire got into bed but found it very difficult to fall asleep. He couldn't take his mind off of Enjolras. As much as he was thrilled to have him back, he would have done anything to spare him this suffering. He wasn’t even sure if it was possible to fix someone this broken. Not that he wouldn’t do anything in his power to help Enjolras. He would. But he just didn’t know what to do.

 

Enjolras’ new attitude concerned him most of all. Before,

 he’d been frightened and sad, and while that was awful, it had at least made sense. Now, Enjolras seemed cheerful and happy, which might seem like an improvement, but Grantaire was concerned about how Enjolras had gotten to that so quickly. There was something he was missing he knew, but he couldn’t even begin to guess what it might be. He would simply have to do the best he could and hope that he didn’t hurt Enjolras any further.

 

He turned over, determined to get to sleep somehow. He’d be no good to Enjolras tomorrow if he was tired.

 

 

Grantaire awoke a few hours later, and at first couldn’t understand what had woken him. Then he heard sobbing coming from the end of the bed. He was up in a moment, and rushing to the foot of the bed, where he found Enjolras, still asleep, but sobbing pitifully.

“Enjolras,” he called, shaking the man gently by his shoulder. “Wake up.”

 

Enjolras woke much more calmly than he had last time, but he was still sobbing and didn’t seem to realise where he was.

“Please, please, please,” he whimpered frantically, “don’t put me in there, I don’t want to go back in there, please. I’ll be good, I’ll do anything-” He cut himself off with a sob.

“Shhh, Enjolras. You’re here with me and no one’s going to hurt you or make you go anywhere you don’t wish to go.” Enjolras stared forwards uncomprehendingly. He was still crying.

 

Grantaire did the only thing he could think to do and pulled Enjolras into a hug. Enjolras clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder. After what seemed to be an age Enjolras’ sobs ceased. When he attempted to pull back, however, Enjolras clung to him desperately and let out a fearful whimper. Grantaire shifted so that he could look into the boy's eyes. He still seemed unaware of his surroundings.

 

Grantaire carefully shifted his grip and lifted Enjolras into his arms. He carried him to the bed and set him down, immediately going to lay beside him. He took Enjolras in his arms and simply hoped that he could wait this out. Eventually, Enjolras drifted off to sleep and, though Grantaire stayed awake much longer, he eventually drifted off to sleep as well.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Enjolras woke up feeling much more comfortable than he had in a long time. He had a moment to enjoy it before the memories of last night returned in a rush. _Oh, no! Oh, god!_ He’d had a nightmare, he’d woken his master up, and then he’d clung to him as though he had any right to touch him at all. And his master had… put him into bed with him? Held him through the night? Promised that he wasn’t going to be locked in the dark room and left alone again? That didn’t make sense. He should have been punished for his outrageous behaviour, not comforted, surely. Regardless, it was not his place to question his master’s actions. He’d been put in the bed, so he would stay in the bed and take whatever punishment was given for his transgressions later.

 

He felt his master stir beside him and held himself still so as not to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. His master blinked sleepily before fixing his eyes on him. Enjolras braced himself for whatever came: shouting, blows, a hand around his throat, cutting off his air until he thought he would die. None of that happened.

“How do you feel today?” his master asked him.

“I feel fine, sir. May I please get up?”

“Yes, of course.”

 

Enjolras got up and walked around the bed, immediately sinking to his knees when he’d reached Grantaire’s side.

“I’m sorry for my unacceptable conduct last night, sir. I’m sorry I woke you, and touched you without permission, and took up space in your bed. Please, punish me as you wish.”

“Sssh, Enjolras. It's alright. You haven’t done anything wrong. You couldn’t help anything you did last night. You didn’t even know where you were.”

“But I broke the rules, sir,” Enjolras reminded him hesitantly.

“Who decides when you deserve to be punished?”

“You do, sir,” Enjolras replied, sounding much more confident.

“So if I say you did nothing wrong, then doesn’t that mean that you did nothing wrong?”

“I… suppose so, sir.”

“Good. Then I say that you don’t deserve to be punished for anything you did last night. Alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. You are too kind to me.”

“No, Enjolras. I’m really not.”

 

It wasn’t his place to disagree so he merely bowed his head and awaited his master's orders. His master stood and moved past him to dress himself for the day. Enjolras shifted so that he was facing his master, in case he needed anything.

“Enjolras,” he called, once he was dressed, and how strange it was that he used Enjolras’ name as though he were a person, not a slave.

“Yes, sir?”

“Did you like sleeping in the bed with me? I know you get anxious about being alone. Did that help? Or did you not like it? Please, answer honestly.”

 

The truth was that he had liked it very much. He hadn’t been able to be scared about being left alone when someone was pressed so close to him. In all honesty, it had felt nice, to have someone touching and giving affection and _that was all._ There were no hands straying, no rough breathing in his ear, no one pinning him down and tearing him open and making him scream. And it had been wonderful. But he couldn’t say that. It was beyond selfish to desire such things when he should be focusing on how to please his master so that he wouldn’t be left alone again. If he voiced such selfish things he would surely be punished. Yet, his master had ordered honesty, and he could not disobey. He would simply have to take the punishment for his inappropriate wishes.

 

“Yes, sir,” he said, resignedly. “I liked it very much.” His master seemed to consider something before speaking.

“I would like it very much if you would sleep in the bed with me, but only if that is something that wouldn’t distress you. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir. But I don’t deserve-”

“Oh Enjolras, you deserve everything good in the world and it kills me that you’ve been made to believe that you don’t!”

“I’m sorry I displease you, sir,” Enjolras murmured, bowing his head. “Please punish me as you wish.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let myself get frustrated. That’s my fault. Now, yes or no, would enjoy sleeping in the bed with me permanently?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, then that is what will happen.”

 

Enjolras stared as his master turned to attempt to tame his hair. His new master was really very generous. He was going to be allowed to sleep in the bed! With his master close enough to know that there was someone else there in the dark! Truly, he’d had no idea that being a pet would be this good. He would be the best he could for this master, he promised himself. No matter what was demanded of him he would comply willingly. Eagerly even. Anything to show his gratitude. His master spoke then, interrupting Enjolras’ thoughts so that he could pay proper attention.

 

“I’m sorry, Enjolras, but I need to go speak with Floréal about something, privately. You’ll have to say here but I promise I will be back in a few minutes. Alright?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Enjolras, already feeling anxious as he watched his master leave.

 

_Floréal,_ he thought viciously. His master wouldn’t be leaving him alone if it weren’t for Floréal. She must be his master’s mistress, surely. He would have to prove to his master that he was much better than her and much more worth keeping. Besides, she could never be as obedient and good for him as Enjolras could be. His master had said it himself, that very first night, she was demanding. He felt affronted, almost, that this woman felt she could demand anything from his master, who surely deserved everything. This woman should count herself lucky to have him! Especially since, if Enjolras was around, she wouldn’t be necessary for much longer.

 

However, his master was taking rather a long time talking to her. What if he found her more interesting than Enjolras? What if he decided that Enjolras was the one who wasn’t necessary and decided to get rid of him? To sell him back to his previous master? Or to lock him away on his own so that he wouldn’t be a nuisance? Oh, please no! He’d do anything to avoid that! He’d stay still and quiet and out of the way when he wasn’t being used. He’d serve anyone his master told him to, gladly. He would serve his master’s mistress as well, even! Anything, just to not be left alone in the dark!

 

He was distracted from his worrying by feeling something soft brushing against the side of his thigh. A cat had wandered into the room and was walking around Enjolras where he was knelt. It looked old, and rather ugly really. It was a pale sandy colour and had a scrunched-up face. It nudged at Enjolras’ hand where it was placed, relaxed, on his thigh, until it was pushed off to rest on the floor. Then the cat crawled its way onto Enjolras’ lap and settled there. Enjolras knew he shouldn’t but his hand crept forward to rest in the animal's fur. It was so _soft_ ; he couldn’t help himself. He began to stroke the fur reflexively, letting out a small elated laugh when the cat began to purr.

 

“She’s usually a mean tempered old thing, but she seems to like you.” Enjolras jumped at his master’s voice, though by all accounts it was hardly more than a whisper, not having noticed that he’d returned to the room.

“I’m sorry, sir!” he said immediately, but couldn’t bring himself to make any move to dislodge the cat. “I know I’m probably not allowed, but she just came and sat on me and-”

“Shhh, it’s alright Enjolras. I’m not upset. Amazed, yes, but not upset. Her name is Ortie, and you may interact with her whenever and however you like.”

“Ortie?” Enjolras laughed without thinking. “Is she so ill tempered?” Before he could panic about speaking out of turn, his master answered.

“She is with everyone else at least, but as I said, she seems to like you.” Enjolras smiled.

“Am I really allowed to interact with her, sir?”

“Yes, whenever you like, though she’s not in the house much. She mainly chases rats in the field.”

“Oh.” Enjolras felt a surge of disappointment run through him. As if she understood the conversation, the cat suddenly got up and ran from the room. Enjolras looked after her sadly.

“Anyway,” his master said, and Enjolras shook himself, realising that he hadn’t been giving his master his full attention while the cat was in the room. That was unacceptable. “Breakfast will be up momentarily and after that the tailor will be here to measure you for some clothes. Do you think you’ll be able to manage that today? We can always rearrange, if not.”

“Yes, sir. I can do it,” came Enjolras’ meek reply.

“Good, that’s good.”

And Enjolras beamed internally. He was being good; he was pleasing his master.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have no idea how tailors work, so sorry...

Grantaire was a little overwhelmed, to say the least. He was hardly paying attention as he fed Enjolras his breakfast, hardly eating anything himself. Enjolras had looked… adorable was the only word, when interacting with Ortie. Not only that but he’d looked happy, and far from the anxiety ridden mess that Grantaire had expected to find when he came back. He wondered if there was a way to have Ortie stay inside with Enjolras? It would certainly make Enjolras more comfortable, and the boy deserved anything good that Grantaire could possibly give him. The only problem was the ill tempered creature herself. Grantaire could imagine that her attitude towards even Enjolras would change drastically if she were locked in with him and not free to come and go as she pleased. Perhaps then he should acquire another cat for Enjolras? One that was more sweet tempered, and willing to stay with Enjolras all day long. Grantaire resolved that he would do it. Anything that would make Enjolras even a little bit happier was well worth any effort it would take to achieve it. Not that this task would be particularly difficult in itself.

 

Once they had finished breakfast Grantaire lead Enjolras to the room where the tailor had been set up. He had already paid the man well for his silence, and for him to act as though nothing was amiss when Enjolras acted… how he acted. That was the reason he’d had to leave Enjolras alone earlier. He could only imagine the boy’s distress if he thought that he was inconveniencing his “master” and costing him money.

 

The tailor, a M. Perrin, was already set up and, as promised, gave no sign of disquiet when Enjolras crawled in behind Grantaire, wearing nothing but a nightshirt.  
“Good morning, m’sieur,” Perrin said.  
“Good morning, Perrin. How are you today?”  
“Very well, m’sieur. Now if you m’sieur,” he said, addressing Enjolras, “would like to come stand here, I’ll get you measured up and then we can talk about materials.” Enjolras blinked at him and look at Grantaire.  
“It’s alright, Enjolras,” he encouraged, but Enjolras still didn’t move. He winced internally. It seemed like he would need orders to get through this. “Do as he says.”

 

Enjolras complied and went to stand where the tailor had pointed. He looked at Grantaire hesitantly and Grantaire knew what he needed to hear.  
“You’re doing well,” he affirmed, and Enjolras beamed. It made Grantaire happy to see him like that, but also sad that such a miniscule thing could produce such a reaction. Enjolras’ happiness lasted until the tailor tried to touch him to measure the length of his leg, at which Enjolras jumped forwards. When he realised what he’d done he immediately dropped to his knees in front of Grantaire.  
“I'm sorry, sir,” he said, frantically. “I should have stayed still and let whoever you wish touch me. My body belongs to you and you can do whatever you want to it, including letting other people touch it. I’m sorry for forgetting my place, sir. Please punish me so I don’t forget again.”  
“Shhh, Enjolras. You haven’t done anything wrong. We can stop this right now if it’s frightening for you and we can find another way to get you clothes. Do you want to stop?”  
“No, sir, I can continue! Let me be good for you, please! Let me show you I can be good.”  
“You’re already good, Enjolras. You don’t have to do this to please me. I’d be much happier knowing you felt safe.”  
“I want to continue, please sir.”  
“Okay, but we stop if you get uncomfortable again.”  
“Yes, sir.”

 

They managed to get through the measuring without further incidents, Grantaire watching Enjolras carefully for any sign of discomfort. He gave none. Then came the discussion about what was actually needed.  
“An entire wardrobe,” Grantaire replied, in response to the tailor’s question. Perrin blinked at him.  
“Of course,” he said, after a moment. “And the materials?” Grantaire looked to Enjolras for an answer, but found him staring straight back at him uncomprehendingly.  
“What would you like the materials to be, Enjolras?”  
“Whatever you wish, sir.” Grantaire wished he could say he was surprised by this reply.  
“Whatever is both fashionable and comfortable,” Grantaire told the tailor.  
“Of course, m’sieur. And the colours?”  
“Enjolras, do you think you can pick one colour for a jacket for me?” Enjolras looked at him wide eyed, seemingly caught in some dilemma. Eventually, he gathered the courage to speak.  
“R-red, sir?” he asked hesitantly, immediately flinching and curling on himself.  
“Good, Enjolras. You’re doing very well. I’m very pleased with you,” Grantaire reassured him, even as he wondered if Enjolras had chosen that colour for a reason. Did he remember what it had once meant to him and chosen to honour that?  
“And for the rest, m’sieur?” the tailor asked Grantaire quietly.  
“Whatever suits his colouring,” he replied. “Can you have at least two outfits ready tomorrow?” he asked.  
“Yes, m’sieur. Certainly. And the time limit for the rest?”  
“By the end of the week. You will be paid well for your trouble, of course. I understand that this is a challenging order. I will come tomorrow to collect the two outfits. The rest you will have delivered here when they are finished.”  
“Yes, m’sieur. Of course.”  
“Good. Here then,” Grantaire said, counting out some notes and handing them to Perrin.  
“Oh, but this is far too much, m’sieur!” the tailor exclaimed.  
“You’ve impressed me with your conduct. Be sure to similarly impress me with your work and your silence and you’ll have the same again.”  
“Thank you, m’sieur! You are very generous!”  
“You’re very welcome.”

 

Grantaire led Enjolras out of the room and into a nearby sitting room. He immediately crouched down to his level, to check on him.  
“Are you alright?” he asked, urgently. “How are you feeling?”  
“I- sir, that was so much money! I don’t deserve to have that much spent on me! You haven’t even used me properly yet, sir!” Enjolras looked frantic, as though he were a moment away from panicking once more.  
“No, no Enjolras! I would never do that to you! That’s not going to happen! Not ever! Please tell me you understand that?”  
“Yes, sir,” Enjolras muttered miserably.  
“Good. How about we go have some lunch? Perhaps that will help?”  
“Yes, sir,” Enjolras replied once again, and Grantaire worried about his dejected expression. Surely someone who’d just been told that they wouldn’t be raped should be happy, shouldn’t they?

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Enjolras took another piece of meat from his master's hand rather dejectedly. He wasn’t hungry. In fact, he was rather full from all that he’d been fed recently. Still, his master wished for him to eat, so he was eating. It seemed to be the only thing he _could_ do for his master. Since he wasn’t good enough for the man to bed him.

 

What use was he to his master, if not for fucking? He was hardly good at anything else. Except perhaps housework, but his master had plenty of servants to take care of that. There was no need for him, and if he was so useless he would be thrown away. His master was very kind, but even his kindness would run out if Enjolras wasn’t useful to him, if he wasn’t a good pet. He resolved to show his master how useful he could be, tonight. He was good at that. His other masters had said so. He was a good little slut. _So hot, so_ _tight. Such a sweet mouth. So pretty when I fuck you_. Yes, he was good at that. His master just didn’t know it yet. Enjolras resolved to show him.

 

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with his master spending the day painting and Enjolras laying at his feet once more. Soon enough, it was time to go to bed.

 

Once his master had changed into his night shirt he turned to Enjolras and regarded him seriously.  
“Is sleeping in the bed with me still something that you’re comfortable with, Enjolras?”  
“Yes, sir. Please let me, please!” If his master didn’t let him in the bed he wouldn’t be able to show him how useful he could be!  
“Shhh, of course you can sleep in the bed, I just wanted to make sure that it won’t make you uncomfortable.  
“It won’t, sir. It’s an honour! One I know I don’t deserve. Thank you for letting me.” His master looked pained at that, and what if he was changing his mind? Had Enjolras done something wrong?  
“Into bed, then,” his master said finally and Enjolras almost breathed a sigh of relief out loud.

 

The climbed into the bed and his master got in next to him. He lay there gathering his courage, but he heard his master’s breathing begin to slow. It would have to be now! If he waited any longer then his master would fall asleep, and waking him up would be unacceptable. He shifted closer to his master and reached out to grasp his cock. It was soft, but why wouldn’t it be? Enjolras had barely begun. He only managed to pump once before his master interrupted him.  
“Enjolras, stop! What are you doing?” he cried.  
“Please, sir, let me make you feel good,” he whispered, not ceasing the movement of his hand. “Let me show you how useful I can be. I’m good at this, please sir, let me show you.”  
“No! Enjolras, stop!” Enjolras gasped and flinched away at the firm tone of his master’s voice. He flung himself out of the bed and onto his knees, with his head bowed. He waited silently for whatever his master wanted to do.

 

“Why did you do that?” his master asked, carefully.  
“I wanted to show you that I can be useful, sir. Please, let me show you. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you say. Please, let me please you, sir.”  
“I’m not going to do that. Why is that a bad thing to you?”  
“Please, I don’t want to be left alone, sir! If I’m not useful to you then you won’t want me anymore and you’ll put me in a room in the dark and just leave me there. You’re so kind to me, sir, and I haven’t done a single thing to deserve it. Please, let me do something for you! Anything at all, sir, please!”  
“Enjolras, I would never, ever do that to you. Never. Won’t you believe me?” Enjolras was crying now. He was such a stupid, worthless slave, he shouldn’t be crying if he wasn’t sure if his master wanted to see it. His first master had like to see his tears, but his second hadn’t. They’d annoyed him. He didn’t know if this master did or not, so he shouldn’t be crying.

 

“No, no! Enjolras, please don’t cry,” his master said, sounding dismayed. Probably upset that his pet was so useless. Not that he was likely to be a pet anymore after this. Not if his master found him so disgusting that he won’t even fuck him.  
“Okay, do you want to know what your job is? What I want from you?” his master asked, desperately.  
“Yes, please, sir. Please!”  
“You job is just to be here with me. To take all of the things I give you, and just to be here, and try to be happy. Do you think you can do that for me, Enjolras?”  
“Yes, sir,” he replied. His tears had stopped now.

 

He couldn’t believe it. He was still going to be a pet, and he wasn’t going to be fucked! Of course, his master had the right to change his mind about that anytime he liked, but for now he was just going to do exactly as he had been doing, just lounging around and being spoiled. Though he would have to start doing better at appearing happy and relaxed, as a pet should be. He leaned down to press a kiss to his master's feet, to express his gratitude, but when he was there he realised that a single kiss wasn’t enough, and began peppering his master’s feet with kisses. He tried to show his gratitude, his devotion in each one. His master stopped him after five, not nearly enough to show the depth of his gratitude, but if his master told him to stop then he would, of course.

 

“Now, do you think you’re ready to come back to bed?”  
“Yes, sir.”

 

They got back into bed, and for once, Enjolras found that his dreams were free of nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this will get rid of the same message repeating at the end of each chapter... Please leave a comment if you have anything to say :)
> 
> Edit: okay, I give up. I cannot get rid of the note under this one so everyone should just disregard it... unless anyone knows how to get rid of it?
> 
> Edit 2: It is gone. Thanks to myrmidryad for telling me how to do it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is dedicated to wanttodrawmothsfrommemory on tumblr since it was almost entirely all her idea. (The idea of a kitten was hers and that's pretty much just what this chapter is).

The next morning as they had breakfast, Grantaire puzzled over how he was going to leave Enjolras alone for long enough for him to go into town and pick up the clothes from the tailor, and find a cat for Enjolras. There was no question that Enjolras couldn’t accompany him. The boy was nowhere near capable of acting in a way which wouldn’t draw attention to them. However, Grantaire knew that leaving him alone for that long was equally out of the question. Then again, perhaps Enjolras would not have to actually be left alone? Perhaps he could ask Floréal to watch over him for the time that he was out?

 

“Enjolras, I have a question to ask you, and I’d like you to answer it honestly, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have to go into town this morning, and you cannot come with me. Will you be alright if I leave you with my housekeeper? She is a kind woman. She would not hurt you.”

“I... might be anxious still, sir. If I’m honest. But I don’t think I will panic if I am not alone, sir.”

“Good. I’m sorry you’ll be anxious, but it has to be done.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to arrange things with her. I promise I’ll be right back.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Grantaire quickly found Floréal, who was more than happy to help. He took her up to Enjolras.

“This is my housekeeper, while I’m gone I want you to obey her orders, alright Enjolras?”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned to Floréal and tried to convey that she shouldn’t question how Enjolras acted. She smiled at him, nodded her head, and motioned for him to go.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Enjolras found he quite liked the woman he’d been left with. She was almost as kind as his master. She allowed him to just kneel quietly, out of the way, while she knitted. However, the inactivity left him with nothing else to do but wonder if his master was really coming back or if he’d actually been left. He tried to keep his agitation to himself, but eventually the housekeeper noticed it.

“Are you feeling anxious, dear?”

“A little, madame,” he muttered.

“Do you think it would help if you were doing something?”

“Yes, please madame.”

“Alright, why don’t you try knitting? I have some spare wool and needles here,” she said, reaching into her basket. “I’ll show you how to do it.”

 

The knitting kept Enjolras very occupied at first. It was very difficult to get the hang of. Eventually though, after a few rows, it became easier. More of a task to occupy his hands than his mind. He began to become anxious once more. All of a sudden, the woman began to talk.

“I’ve known René since he was a baby. I was hired to look after him when I was just a little younger than you. He was such a sweet child, very quiet. He hardly ever cried. Oh, he used to smile constantly, no matter what was happening, he was always pleased by it.” She smiled fondly. Enjolras listened, enraptured.

 

“Of course, that changed when he got a little older. He was a little imp as a child. Got himself into mischief constantly. There was a time, when he was eight years old I think, old enough to know better certainly. His parents were hosting a dinner party! He was good as gold throughout the whole meal! Then as they all went about socialising before the dessert was served, he disappeared! No one could find him for a good half an hour. Then he was discovered, hiding under the table with the cake! He’d eaten half of the entire thing! And he was covered in it, it was chocolate too, mind, and he had it all over his face and front! His parents were furious!” Enjolras found himself laughing despite himself. Not once did he consider that he suddenly wasn’t anxious anymore.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Grantaire felt a bolt of unease as he entered the tailor’s and saw the man looking at him anxiously.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Do you not have what I ordered?”

“No, it’s all here m’sieur. I put two nightgowns in as well. And the rest’ll be ready on time.”

“Then why do you look at me so?”

“Look, m’sieur. Everyone in this town knows your a decent man. Have been since you were a little lad. It’s just…”

“Just what?” Grantaire asked tersely.

“What you’re doin’ to that young lad ‘s’not right! Makin’ ‘im act like that! You paid me for my silence but I can’t stand by an’ let that happen!”

“Peace, my good man! You’ve got quite the wrong idea! I’m trying to help Enjolras recover! He’s been made to think he has to act like that or he’ll be hurt. I’m trying to show him that’s not true. You’re concern is admirable, but misplaced.”

“But then, why the secrecy m’sieur?”

“There are those that would stop me from helping him. The people who did this to him, did it for a reason. I would not have him be discovered.”

“I see m’sieur. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“It’s quite alright. Now, the clothes?”

“Of course, m’sieur.”

 

Grantaire left the tailor’s with the clothes, and a worry that he hadn’t consciously expressed to himself before. Enjolras had committed treason, if he were found out… He pushed such thoughts from himself. He was not done with his errands for the day, yet.

 

He went the the market in search of a cat. There was a vendor there who sold all sorts of animals, from mice to horses. He found the vendor with little difficulty. After all, horses are not difficult to find. The problem was that when he got there, there was so much choice! He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so many cats in one place! He was immediately drawn to one of the few baskets of kittens. Surely, a kitten would be better. They were sweeter, more affectionate. Plus, he wouldn’t have to worry about it dying before Enjolras could be prepared. Yes, a kitten was the best solution.

 

“Can I help you, monsieur?” a young woman, presumably the merchant's daughter, asked him.

“Yes, I’m looking for a kitten for my friend, as a gift. A sweet-tempered one.”

“How about this one, monsieur?” the girl asked, taking one from the basket carefully. “He’s truly as sweet-tempered as you could wish for! Very affectionate!”

 

Grantaire examine the kitten and found it to have one eye that was deformed and sightless. It had black and white and brown fur and was a little smaller than it’s siblings.

“Please, monsieur,” the girl said, a little desperately.

“Lucille!” a deeper voice cried. “What are you doing showing that runt to the gentleman?”

“He asked about the kittens, Papa-”

“And I’m sure he doesn’t want to waste his time with that thing. The runt of the litter, sir,” the man explained to Grantaire. “I would have drowned it at birth but my daughter was distraught. Feeding it’s taking up profit now though. I’m ending it tonight.”

 

Grantaire glanced between the girl, the vendor, and the kitten. Then, he turned back to the vendor.

“I’ll take it,” he said.

“Monsieur,”

“I said I’ll take it. What’s your price?”

“A franc, monsieur.” An abysmally low price.

“Very well. And for the necessary appendages?”

“2 francs for a basket, collar, and a brush.”

 

Grantaire handed over the required amount and the vendor went to fetch the items.

“Thank you, monsieur,” the girl, Lucille, said quietly.

“There’s no need to thank me. Thank _you_ for showing him to me.”

“Your- your friend will be kind to him, won’t he, monsieur?” the girl asked hesitantly.

“I don’t think he’s capable of being otherwise. I promise, he’ll have a good home with him.” The conversation ended quickly when the vendor returned with the items, and the kitten. He handed them all to Grantaire.

“Be sure to visit us again if you find you want something a little more satisfactory, monsieur.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Grantaire replied cheerfully, and then was on his way.

 

He took the kitten from the basket for the walk home. The little thing could be held comfortably in his hand. It mewled softly, so Grantaire shushed it.

“Shhh,” he soothed, “everything's alright. You’re going to belong to the sweetest man alive, you needn’t worry. If you’d seen him when he stroked Ortie you wouldn’t fuss. He was so gentle, he was barely even touching her. You have to be kind to him, though. I’ve been told you’re very affectionate. That’s good. He’s been hurt a lot in the past, you see. I’m trying to make that better. I’m hoping you’ll help with that. Then again, I never know what will help and what will only make things worse. I seem to make things worse a lot you see.” The kitten had quietened, so Grantaire stopped talking. The moment he did, the little beast started to fuss again.

 

“Oh, hush you! You’d better not act like this around Enjolras. That’s his name. Enjolras. You should have seen him with the other cat. He looked so happy. That’s why I bought you!. He deserves everything in the world that makes him happy and I’d give it to him in a heartbeat if I could. So that’s your job. To make him happy, you understand? None of this grief you’re giving me.” The kitten had fallen asleep. Grantaire sighed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It had been hours since his master had left, but Enjolras had hardly noticed at all. He was busy listening to the housekeeper’s stories about his master. Then, all of a sudden the door opened and his master was back! Enjolras smiled at him without even thinking about it, because he’d _wanted_ to, and it had been a long time since he’d been happy enough to see someone that he’d _wanted_ to smile at them.

 

His master returned him smile, he looked particularly happy today as well.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted them. “What have the two of you been doing in my absence?”

“Knitting, sir. A- and talking,” he replied, suddenly worried that it wasn’t allowed. His master just smiled at him, however.

“I’ve been telling him what a little hellion you were when you were younger, René.”

“Madame, must you spill all of my secrets? I’ll lose all credibility!”

“You have none of that to begin with as far as I’m concerned.” Enjolras giggled at their banter. His master turned to look at him and he shrunk down a little. Had he really just _laughed_ at his master?

“I have a present for you, Enjolras,” his master said, smiling at him.

 

_Oh, no._ This wasn’t good. Presents are never good! Presents meant a new cane or a new whip to be used on him. It’s never anything good…

“It’s just outside the door. I’m going to go get it, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

 

His master returned with a basket, and in the basket there was a… hat? That couldn’t be right. Then, the hat started to move and Enjolras realised it was a kitten. The kitten blinked sleepily and looked around the room. Then it saw Enjolras and leapt down to go sniff at him. Once it was satisfied that Enjolras smelled trustworthy it started to rub against him, looking to be stroked.

“Sir, please. Please, may I-”

“Yes Enjolras, you may. As I said, he’s a present. He’s yours and you may interact with him however you like.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you so much!” He tentatively put his hand into the kitten's fur. It was so soft! And the kitten was so small! “Please may I do something to show my gratitude, sir?”

“There’s no need. Just love him and look after him. I suspect he hasn’t been treated very well so far.” Enjolras felt a fierce rush of protectiveness run through him as he heard this. Nothing was going to hurt this kitten. _His_ kitten. Nothing at all.

“Now, he’ll need a name Enjolras. What would you like to call him?”

 

A name? How could he name something so precious? So dear…

“Chéri,” he said. “Please may I call him Chéri, sir?” His master looked startled for a moment, before answering.

“Yes, of course you may.”

 

Enjolras looked at the little figure curling into his hand and knew one thing for certain; his master was truly the most generous person he’d ever know, and he deserved everything that Enjolras could give him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me, if you want.


	8. Chapter 8

Enjolras spent the rest of the day playing with Chéri while his master painted. His master had acquired a little ball from somewhere, and had gifted it to Enjolras to play with Chéri with. He had been very hesitant at first, not daring to do anything that might disturb or annoy his master. Eventually, after much pestering and nudging from Chéri, he worked up the courage to roll the ball from where he was kneeling to the other side of the room. He laughed in delight as Chéri chased after it, pouncing on it when he’d reached it. He watched the kitten bat at the ball curiously and chase after it as it rolled away. There was a laugh from above him and he realised that his master had stopped painting and was watching. He sunk down, though his master didn’t particularly seem angry. Still, it was best to be cautious.

“Am- am I in trouble, sir?” he asked, bowing his head.

“No,” his master replied quickly. “Why would you think that?”

“I disturbed you, sir.”

“You didn’t, but even if you had I wouldn’t mind.”

“But, sir-”

“Enjolras, I want this to be very clear, so you need to listen, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will never be angry with you for gaining my attention. You are far more important to me than whatever I might be doing at the time. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, sir. I think so.”

“Good.”

 

It was quite simple really. He was his master’s favourite possession so his master liked to watch what he was doing. He was allowed to get his master’s attention if he needed it because of that. He smiled to himself. How nice it was to be valued so! How lucky he was to have a master that was so kind to him when he hardly did anything to earn it. He wished he could do something to earn it. His master deserved his devoted service, but he had no way to give it to him. If his master didn’t want sex from him then what good was he? He’d been happy when he’d realised that he wouldn’t be fucked, but he’d had time to consider since then. It didn’t matter whether Enjolras enjoyed being fucked or not. What mattered was that his master enjoyed it, and Enjolras remembered from before that his master had enjoyed sex, and had frequently boasted about his exploits. He also remembered that his master had wanted to bed him then, so it stood to reason that he still would now. So he should. He shouldn’t deny himself over some misguided idea that Enjolras’ consent, or lack thereof, mattered. So perhaps he should try to convince his master of that? He would have to wait for the opportune moment though.

 

Soon enough it was time for them to get ready for bed. His master presented him with a brand new nightgown, one which actually fit well and wasn’t hanging off of him. Enjolras hated it. Still, he changed into it, as he had been told to do, and handed the old one to his master.

“I’ll be back in just a moment,” his master promised, “I’m just going to throw this away.”

“No, please!” Enjolras blurted without thinking. Then he gasped, horrified, and pressed his forehead to the floor, waiting for his master to punish him. How could he be so _stupid_? Really, he was much better trained than this. What did it matter if he didn’t want his master’s old nightshirt to be thrown away? If it made him feel safe, something that it was difficult for him to do? If he liked how it was too big? That it drowned him and felt like being wrapped in a blanket. His pathetic feelings did not matter.

 

“Enjolras, what’s wrong? Please tell me?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was unacceptable of me to forget my place like that. Please punish me so that I don’t forget again.”

“No, Enjolras, it’s okay, you haven’t done anything wrong. Just tell me what you don’t want me to do and I won’t do it, I promise.”

“I- I didn’t want you to throw the nightshirt away, sir, but that was unacceptable of me to express, I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright, Enjolras. If you want to keep the nightshirt, then that’s fine. I’ll just take it to Floréal to be washed, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, hardly daring to hope that he’d actually be allowed to keep the shirt. Surely his master was really going to throw it away and laugh at him for ever thinking that it would be otherwise.

 

His master returned, but did nothing but ask him if he was ready to go to bed. They got into bed quietly and Enjolras lay there, feeling uneasy. He was disquieted and he wasn’t quite sure why. Then, suddenly, he realised.

“Sir?” he asked, barely audible.

“Yes, Enjolras?”

“W-where’s Chéri, sir?”

“Don’t worry, he’s in his basket, in the sitting room.” Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t been taken from him. He was safe. Enjolras thought then that he would go whatever his master asked of him if it meant keeping his kitten safe.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, meaning so many things by it.

“You’re welcome,” his master replied, so perhaps he understood them.

 

 

 

Enjolras awoke the next morning feeling strange. There was an abnormal throbbing down in his- _oh. Oh, no. This was bad. This was very bad. This wasn’t allowed at all._

 

He was hard. He was hard without permission from his master. He was in his master's bed and hard without permission. Oh, he was going to be punished so severely because of this and he’ll deserve every agonising moment if it. This was the epitome of him being selfish. Wanting pleasure when he’d done nothing to earn it. It didn’t matter that this master hadn’t locked his cock up. Or that his former master had liked to make him come in strange, humiliating ways almost every day, so he was just _used_ to it. It was evident that his current master didn’t wish for him to come, since he wasn’t making him do so. So he definitely shouldn’t be hard right now. He scrambled out of the bed and down onto his knees to wait for his master to wake up. He didn’t have to wait for long. It only took the movement of Enjolras leaving the bed to wake his master. Just another item to add onto the list of things he should be punished for.

 

“Enjolras? What’s wrong?” his master asked sleepily.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, remorsefully.

“Why are you sorry? Tell me what it is that you think you’ve done wrong.”

“I- I got hard without permission, sir. I’m sorry.”

“You- Oh. Oh, right. Enjolras, that’s okay. It’s a perfectly natural thing to happen.”

“But you didn’t give me permission, sir.”

“You don’t need my permission for that.” Enjolras flinched and started shaking. He didn’t want to contradict his master but of course he needed permission to have such a reaction. His body was his master's possession. Therefore, he needed his permission before any sort of change could happen to it. He couldn’t tell his master he was wrong though.

“Enjolras, look at me,” his master ordered quietly. Enjolras obeyed anxiously, preparing for his master to look angry. What he saw was much worse. His master looked sad. God, had Enjolras disappointed him so much that he was sad about it? What a worthless slave he was.

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he repeated miserably.

“Okay, I need you to try and understand something for me, Enjolras. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your body belongs to you, and no one else. You don’t belong to me. You are your own person. I know this is going to be difficult for you to believe right now, but I want you to try and keep in mind that that is what I think, even if you don’t.” Enjolras felt like he couldn’t breathe. If his master didn’t own him then- then-

“Please, sir, please- I- please-” Oh god, he was crying again. He was such a bad slave; no wonder his master didn’t want to own him.

“Tell me what you need, Enjolras,” his master ordered, urgently.

“Please, sir, say I’m yours. Say I’m your pet. Or- or just your slave if you don’t think I deserve that anymore, since I’ve been bad. Please, sir.”

“Enjolras, I- I can’t-” Enjolras whimpered. Of course his master didn’t want to own him when he was acting like this! It was beyond disgraceful! He’d been nothing but a disappointment to his master since he’d arrived, and his master had done nothing but be kind to him and give him nice things. He wasn’t even good enough for his master to fuck, and now he was going to be left alone because he was such a stupid little slut who didn’t deserve to even be in his master’s presence, let alone to have his attention and affection. His tears were coming quicker now and it was getting even harder for him to breathe. Suddenly, he felt his master’s arms around him.

“Okay, shhh, Enjolras, shhh. You’re mine. You’re my... pet. I’m sorry for frightening. This was too much for you for now. I should have known. I’m sorry.”

 

Enjolras calmed down, little by little. He began to understand. His master had pretended not to want him anymore… as a punishment perhaps? An extraordinarily cruel one, but a punishment nevertheless. Then, he’d judged the punishment he’d chosen as too harsh and… apologised to him? It was strangely sweet that his master had bothered to apologise, as though he didn’t have the right to hurt Enjolras however he wished, just for his own amusement.

 

“Am I forgiven, sir?” he asked from where his face was pressed against his master’s shoulder. It was nice, being held like this, having his master close. Having physical proof of his affection. Perhaps this was part of the apology? Or perhaps his master just wanted to hold his pet? It wasn’t his place to question.

“What- never mind. Yes, Enjolras, you are forgiven.”

“Thank you, sir.”

 

His master pulled away and stood up. Some of his disappointment must have shown in his face because his master noticed.

“You liked that?” he asked. “When I was holding you?”

“Yes, sir. Very much. Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. Would you like it if I did that more?”

“Please, sir! Please, I’ll do _anything_!”

“Shhh, you don’t have to beg. I just wanted to know if that is a good thing to you or not.”

“It is, sir.”

 

“Good. I’d like you to explain something to me, if you can. What does being my... my pet mean to you?”

“It’s- it’s an honour I never thought I’d deserve, sir. My first master explained being a pet to me. He described it as something to be worked towards, something I could aspire to be one day. I didn’t believe him. I- I was very bad back then, sir. I was rude, and disobedient, and disrespectful. I didn’t understand how lucky I was that my master owned me. I was ungrateful. Then my master showed me, and I learned better. I realised then how bad I was and being a pet seemed like something I could never possibly deserve. But you’ve treated me so kindly ever since you bought me, sir, and I knew that the only explanation is that you must want me to be your pet, sir. And I’m so grateful, sir. Truly, I am. I wish you would let me show you how grateful I am. I know I’ve done nothing to deserve your kindness, sir, but I promise, I’ll be the best pet you could ever wish for, I’ll do anything you want me to, I swear! Thank you for letting me be your pet, sir.” He pressed a long kiss to his master’s foot, then pulled back to look at his master’s reaction. He seemed… upset?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have anything to say... feel free...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went over my self-imposed word limit of 1800-2200 words for this chapter, but we're all going to ignore this.

Grantaire felt sick to his stomach. Enjolras was so far gone that he believed that being treated like a pet, like an animal, was a good thing. That was a step up for him. He couldn’t bear to think of what Enjolras must have already endured if that was what he thought of as better. What little he already knew was sickening enough. Still, Enjolras hadn’t yet told him what being a pet actually meant to him, logistically speaking, and as much as he dreaded in, he needed to know.  
  
“And how is being a pet different to being a slave, Enjolras?” Enjolras suddenly looked confused and disquieted, so Grantaire added, “I just want to make sure we both understand each other. This doesn’t mean that you’re not a pet. I just wish to make sure that you know what that means.”  
“Of course, sir. Being a pet is like being just a slave, except that if a pet is very good, they might earn gentleness, perhaps even affection. A pet is still a slave, they must always, always obey their master’s orders. The only difference is that if a slave is good enough to be a pet, they might be lucky enough to be cared about one day, if they are very good, and please their master very well.”  
“I... that’s very good, Enjolras. You did very well telling me that.”  
“Thank you, sir,” Enjolras said, beaming at him. He looked so happy, just from that small bit of praise. Grantaire knew that he would have to deal with these worrying ideas eventually, but that directly contradicting them would not work. It upset Enjolras too much, and that was something Grantaire could not do to him, no matter how much it hurt him to see Enjolras act this way. Enjolras deserved whatever happiness Grantaire could give him, now more than ever.  
  
“Would you like to take Chéri outside today, Enjolras? I’m sure he’d like to run around.”  And Enjolras hadn’t been outside since he’d been here, he thought privately. Wasn’t fresh air something that human beings needed to be happy? Enjolras hadn’t had any in a few days and that couldn’t be healthy.  
“Outside, sir?” Enjolras asked, looking heartbreakingly hopeful. “You’d let me go outside?” Grantaire suddenly felt sick.  
“You haven’t been allowed to go outside?” he asked. “Not at all?”  
“No, sir. My previous masters considered it to be too much of a risk. They believed I would try to run away- but I wouldn’t sir, I promise! I would be so good, and stay right next to you. I wouldn’t dare try to run away. You could keep me on a leash, sir, please.”  
“Shhh, Enjolras. We’re still going to go outside. I know you won’t try to run away. You’re- you’re too good for that. There’s no need for a leash.”  
“Thank you, sir! Thank you so much! I promise I’ll be so good for you, sir.”  
“I know you will. If we’re to go outside, though, you’ll need to be properly dressed. Would you like to try on your new clothes?”  
“If that would please you, sir.”  
“It would. Here.” He handed Enjolras one of the sets of clothes the tailor had prepared, along with the red jacket. He only startled a little when Enjolras stripped off the nightshirt immediately, with no thought that he might be allowed privacy to change. When he was done, it the brief moment before Enjolras went to his knees again, Grantaire was struck with the idea that he could almost believe that nothing had changed at all. Enjolras was radiant. Red had always suited him, but now, in contrast to how he had looked only a moment ago, he was resplendent. Then he went to his knees once more, and the illusion was shattered.  
  
“Do- Do I look how you wanted me to, sir? Do I please you?” Enjolras asked earnestly.  
“You look very nice. Are you comfortable?”  
“Comfortable, sir?”  
“Yes. Are the clothes too tight, or too loose? Does the material scratch you? Is there anything unpleasant about it? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable at all.”  
“They’re wonderful, sir! Thank you for letting me have them.” Enjolras beamed up at him and pressed a long kiss to his foot. He felt a pang somewhere in his chest and tried not to let his reaction show to Enjolras. The last thing that Enjolras needed was to think that he’d upset the master. He could only imagine the panic that would follow if he thought that.  
"Let's go," he said, and managed to not sound choked up.  
  
Grantaire didn't know whether to watch Enjolras or Chéri once they were actually outside. Chéri bounded off the second he was set down and was currently investigating a dandelion by batting at it with one paw and then hopping away quickly lest the unfamiliar object attack him. Enjolras on the other hand was incredibly still. He knelt at Grantaire's side, his only movement was the small slide of his hand back-and-forth through the grass. The boy watched the movement as though mesmerized, and Grantaire watched him, heartbroken. Such a strong reaction to such a little thing; it made him want to weep. Instead, he gained control of himself. He took the little ball that Enjolras had been playing with yesterday out of his pocket.

 

“Would you like to throw the ball for Chéri, Enjolras?”

“Yes, sir, please. If that would please you, sir?”

“It would. I like you to be happy Enjolras. Can you try to remember that for me?”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras replied, taking the ball from Grantaire’s outstretched hand, even as his face looked confused. Grantaire did not cry, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead, he watched Enjolras call out to Chéri, and watched the little menace bound right over to him. Enjolras spent a moment stroking his hand through the kitten’s fur before he showed him the ball. Immediately, the little hellion was after it, so Enjolras held it high out of reach before throwing it as far as he could from his low vantage point. Chéri lept after the projectile and Enjolras laughed in delight. Grantaire would have died to have gained such an expression from him before the barricade, and now such a small kindness could achieve it. It struck something in him, and he felt grief claw its way into the back of his throat. No. He could not allow himself to fall apart now, it was imperative that he keep his composure around Enjolras. For now, he pushed his grief to the back of his mind and simply allowed himself to enjoy the fact that Enjolras was happy. Enjolras was happy, and it was because of something he had done.

 

Soon though, clouds that had merely been on the horizon began to loom threateningly and Grantaire was forced the take them back inside. Something that neither Enjolras nor Chéri was happy about, although the latter was much more expressive of this than the former was. Grantaire wouldn’t have known that Enjolras was unhappy at all had he not been looking for the slight downturn to Enjolras’ mouth when he was told that they had to return inside before the rain started.

 

They rushed inside just was the first few drops of rain began to fall, and Enjolras’ posture seemed to fall even more once the door had closed behind them, until he was slouched down on his knees, looking so dejected that Grantaire could swear that he felt his heart clench. He hated to deny Enjolras anything he wanted, especially when it made him as happy as going outside had made him, but the last thing that either of them needed now was for one or both of them to become ill from staying out in the rain.

 

“You will be allowed to go outside again, Enjolras. I promise.”

“Thank you for letting me now, sir,” Enjolras said, pressing a slow kiss to Grantaire’s foot. “May I show you my appreciation, sir?”

“No!” Grantaire yelped, knowing exactly what Enjolras meant. “No, you don’t have to do that Enjolras. You never have to do that again.”

Enjolras nodded, but Grantaire doubted that he actually understood.

“Okay, I want you to go to the dining room and wait for me there. You can take Chéri with you, so you won’t be alone. I’m going to go talk to Floréal about getting us some lunch.”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras muttered, almost inaudible. He seemed very upset all of a sudden and Grantaire mentally cursed himself. Why had he thought that _he_ of all people could help Enjolras? He would have to do better, or he risked hurting Enjolras even further, and he would rather die than do that.

“I promise; I’ll join you in just a moment. Now go.”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras muttered once more, as he crawled off. Grantaire sighed as he watched him go.

 

Then he caught himself, he wouldn’t waste time worrying while Enjolras was left alone and uncertain. He headed off to find Floréal. He found her in the kitchens and affected a cheerful manner as he went to speak to her.

“Good afternoon, Madame! I’ve come to see if I can’t procure some morsel of food for Enjolras and I, before we waste away to nothing.” She shook her head at him fondly.

“Already prepared and sent up to the dining room, dear, along with a letter for you.”

“And-”

“And something for the cat as well, now get along, and get out of my hair.”

“Truly Madame, you wound me,” he intoned mock gravely, and gave an elaborate bow before leaving the room.

 

He found Enjolras kneeling next to his habitual chair in the dining room, slowly stroking his hand through Chéri’s fur, and breathing in a very controlled manner. He looked visibly relieved that Grantaire was back. Grantaire seated himself at the table, and pulled the plate of tiny sandwiches towards himself. He picked one up and held it down for Enjolras to eat, not even flinching at the kiss which Enjolras pressed to his hand after he had eaten it. Then he noticed the small bowl of stripped meat placed up on the table.

“Here Enjolras,” he said, passing the bowl down to him, “give this to Chéri.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you? Why thank you?”

“For letting him eat, sir.” He said it so plainly, as though it were obvious.

“Enjolras, listen to me. Both you and Chéri will always, _always_ be allowed to eat.”

“That is very generous of you, sir.”

“No, it’s not. It really isn’t.”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras acquiesced, but Grantaire could tell that is was merely an appeasement. _Rome wasn’t built in a day,_ he reminded himself.

 

It was then that the letter gained his attention. He recognised the handwriting on the envelope. It was from his father. He opened it hurriedly.

 

_My dear son,_

 

_Your mother requests that I make the necessary arrangements with you about your upcoming visit to settle your finances for this quarter. We would, of course, be pleased to receive you whenever is most convenient for you. Do try to let us know of your intentions in this regard as soon as possible though, won’t you, René? You know how your mother frets._

 

_It has also come to my attention that you have taken up residence with a mutual acquaintance of ours, the lovely young man we met at the Perronne’s function recently. To think, I had to hear that news from M. Hubert, rather than my own son! You needn’t worry, I think it quite natural that a man your age keep such a close companion for social reasons. Nevertheless, perhaps you might bring your friend when you visit us? I would very much enjoy becoming reacquainted with him._

 

_Do let us hear from you soon René, this account business isn’t something that can wait._

 

_Your loving father,_

_T. Grantaire._

 

Grantaire finished reading the letter and realised that he was gripping the table so hard that his knuckles were turning white. His father’s meaning could hardly have been plainer, and Grantaire would be damned if he let his father so much as lay eyes on Enjolras again, let alone letting him rape him! He felt rage stir up in his chest just at the thought!

 

He tried to gain control of his emotions as he fed Enjolras another sandwich. His own appetite was gone as though it had never existed. Soon, Enjolras was taking lacklustre little bites from the sandwich Grantaire held out to him.

“Enjolras, are you full?”

“I can eat more if you wish, sir.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. Are you full?” Grantaire asked, forgetting to be gentle.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Enjolras whispered, cowed.

“No. No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that like that. I’m not angry with you.”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras whispered, bowing his head. Fuck! Now he gone and frightened Enjolras on top of everything!

 

“How about we go to my study? I’ll paint for a while and you can play with Chéri.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Grantaire sighed at Enjolras’ meek tone, but lead him out of the room anyway. Painting would calm him down and then he could fix this properly. As it was he could still feel his anger like a physical presence in his chest.

 

As he set up his easel, Enjolras began to tentatively roll the ball for Chéri to chase. The kitten was still too excited from his adventure outside, however, and ignored the ball in favour of dashing around the room. Grantaire’s fight with the easel was not going well, in the meantime, but eventually he got it up. However, just as he crossed the room to pick up his canvas, Chéri chose that moment to run between his legs, sending them both sprawling on the floor.

“Oh, damnation to you, you infernal creature!” he shouted, finally losing his temper, only to be frozen in place as he heard a terrified whimper come from Enjolras.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has given me headaches, but here it is.
> 
> Also, I believe this is now my longest fic ever :D
> 
> Edit: Thanks to wanttodrawmothsfrommemory on tumbr for pointing out my incredibly bad mistake!

“Fuck, Enjolras, please don’t be frightened! I promise, I won’t hurt you!” Grantaire cried immediately, pulling himself up from the floor and trying to fix the situation.

“No, no sir, please!” Enjolras begged, with a desperation that Grantaire hadn’t heard from him since the first night he’d been there. “Please don’t hurt Chéri! Hurt me instead, please, I beg you! It was my fault! I should have had hold of him, I shouldn’t have let him get in your way, and I’m sorry, sir, so sorry, but _please_ -” Enjolras would do anything, so long as his master didn’t hurt Chéri. He _couldn’t_ allow his kitten to be hurt.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, Enjolras!” Grantaire soothed hurriedly. “No one is going to be hurt or punished. It was just an accident. It was no one’s fault.”

“But you were angry with me, sir. I deserve to be punished. I know I have no right to express my emotions in such a way. To be so- so _ungrateful_ as to be upset that you find me unsatisfactory and wish to spend time with your mistress rather than me. I should be grateful that you allow me to serve you at all, sir, and I’m very sorry for being so insubordinate, please punish me sir.”

 

Enjolras was ashamed of himself as he realised how terrible his behaviour had been, acting as though he had any right to draw his master’s attention, or try to convince him to discard his mistress in favour of Enjolras. He ought to be grateful for whatever scraps of attention his master chose to give to him, not selfishly trying to gain more. Why would his master even want to waste time with such a selfish slave? It was his job to make his master happy, and instead he’d been preoccupied with how to improve his own situation. He was such a bad slave. His master seemed to be thinking carefully before answering him. He was probably trying to find the words to tell him just how bad he’d been. At this rate he would deserve to be left all alone in the dark.

 

“Enjolras,” his master said, and Enjolras focused all his attention on him, “you seem to be under a misconception. I have no mistress.”

 

Oh, he hadn’t expected his master to lie to him. He was so taken aback that he couldn’t even bring himself to say his habitual “yes, sir”. Thankfully, his master spoke again, and so didn’t notice.

“Who do you think my mistress is, Enjolras?”

“Floréal, sir.” At that, his master looked confused.

“Floréal? But you have met Floréal! Surely you can’t think that- the woman is like a mother to me!” He had met Floréal? But when?

“Enjolras, Floréal is the housekeeper!”

 

Enjolras was stunned for a moment at this shift is perspective. Then he remembered, and opened his mouth to ask his question, but shut it abruptly, immediately. He had been about to question his master. What was wrong with him today? He was being such a bad slave! Even if he knew his master was lying, he had to pretend to believe it.

“You can ask whatever you wanted to ask,” his master said.

“It was impertinent, sir. I shouldn’t.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you to be confused. What did you want to ask?” He would have to answer his master truthfully, and take whatever punishment it got him for thinking such things.

“That very first night, sir, you said you had a mistress and that you didn’t want to use me because she had worn you out.”

“I did. That was a lie, Enjolras, because I didn't want to hurt you.”

 

Enjolras… understood, he thought. His master hadn’t been in the mood to use him, to hurt him, that night, so he’d made an excuse to save face in front of the other men. There was no mistress. However, that left Enjolras concerned. If his master hadn’t been expending himself with his mistress, then why hadn’t he been using Enjolras? He remembered before- even though he knew it was bad- and knew that his master did like having sex. He’d bragged about it loudly enough. He’d even wanted to have sex with Enjolras then. So why wasn’t he now? Some ridiculous idea about not hurting Enjolras? His master couldn’t care about that, surely, no matter how kind he’d been. Enjolras renewed his resolve to show him tonight, how good sex with Enjolras could be. He was good at it; he’d been told so. He would show his master how good he was, and then his master would finally use his properly. It couldn’t be healthy for him to deny himself like this.

 

“I understand, sir. I’m sorry for my misconception.”

“That’s alright, Enjolras. Come now, why don’t you find Chéri, I think he’s hidden under the drawers there, and make sure he’s alright. If he is then why don’t you just spend the rest of the evening holding him? That way you know he’s safe.”

“I- I’m allowed, sir?”

“You are.”

 

Enjolras retrieved Chéri from underneath the drawers and set about calming the terrified creature.

“Hush,” he whispered to him, speaking very gently, taking care to make sure his master wasn’t listening. “Our master won’t hurt you. He’s very kind really. Besides, I wouldn’t let him. I’d beg and plead and grovel to make sure that he’d punish me instead. I won’t let anything hurt you. I won’t, I promise.” He deserved to be whipped for even thinking it, for daring to suggest that his master shouldn’t do exactly what he wanted to, but he just couldn’t allow any harm to come to his Chéri. His Chéri, who was a sweet little thing, who didn’t deserve to have anything bad happen to him, who deserved to be happy, always. Who was so much better than him.

“Enjolras,” his master called from over at his easel, and for a moment Enjolras feared he’d heard his insubordinate words. However, his worry was assuaged once his master continued. “I want to make something very clear to you. I am not going to hurt Chéri. Ever. Alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!” Enjolras was wild with gratitude. At this point with his other masters he’d already be across the room and mouthing at the crotch of their trousers, his eyes begging for permission to take them off and show his gratitude properly. However, he would not risk doing that just now, with this master. He had to convince him that sex with Enjolras could be good before he could express his gratitude that way. So he settled for simply crawling across the room and pressing kisses to his master’s feet, as insufficient as that was.

“Is there anything I can do for you, sir? To show my gratitude?”

“I- no, Enjolras. You don’t have to do that.”

“Please, sir.”

“No.”

“Yes, sir, sorry.” Enjolras bowed his head. He shouldn’t have pushed. His master had said he wasn’t allowed and he’d continued to ask. He was being such a bad slave today.

“You don’t have to apologise.”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras replied, confused and hoping that his confusion didn’t cause him to be punished.

“Okay,” his master said, “Would you like to lay down next to me with Chéri while I paint?”

“Yes sir, please.”

“Good. Let’s do that then.”

 

What little was left of the day passed without incident. His master continued his painting, and Enjolras tried to arrange himself as appealingly was possible at his master’s feet. He wasn’t sure if he was successful or not. His master certainly watched him a lot, but he did that usually. Soon enough, they were getting ready for bed. Enjolras changed into one of his new nightgowns at his master’s command, and tried not to mourn the loss of the old, too big one. He attempted to look enticing as he removed his clothes. An attempt which was unsuccessful, as his master did not look at him until he was clothed once more. They both got into the bed, and Enjolras steeled himself.

 

It was difficult to force himself to move. To touch his master without permission. If he did it wrong, if he didn’t please, he could get in so much trouble. Still, if he didn’t do it soon, his master would fall asleep and he absolutely would not wake him. He couldn’t move though, with the thought of what happened last time he’d attempted this at the forefront of his mind. He would have to be better this time.

 

He slid himself down the bed and under the covers, taking his masters cock into his mouth before he could second guess himself. He only managed to get it to harden in his mouth and give one experimental suck before he felt a hand in his hair, pulling him off of his master’s cock and heard his master’s voice come from above him.

“Stop, Enjolras! I thought we’d already talked about this; you don’t have to do that!”

“Please, sir,” he gasped, ignoring the pain in his scalp from the grip in his hair. “Punish me however you like for daring to touch you without permission, but please, use me as I’m meant to be used.” His master let go of his hair.

“Enjolras I-“

“Please sir!” he cut in desperately, and almost faltered because he’d just interrupted his master! He was being so bad today that, forget being a pet, he’d be lucky to be allowed to serve his master at all after this, unless he made his master see, and that thought drove him to continue. “I’m good at it, sir, I promise, and for you I’d be the very best that I could possibly be, please, just let me please you. Let me be good, please sir, I beg you.”

“No, Enjolras, no I won’t. I will not hurt you. I’m sorry for pulling your hair like that, I should have been more collected. I’d rather die than harm you, or allow any harm to come to you. I want you to try to remember before the barricades. Can you not remember how I felt about you? Can you not remember what you believed? How all men are equal, and one man must not be subject to another’s will?”

“No, no sir, please. I beg you, please, pick another punishment, anything but this.” Enjolras whimpered, desperate, as the memory of once kind faces forever frozen in grimaces of pain danced behind his eyelids, called forth from the recesses of his mind, to which he had confined them, by his master’s words. “Please, sir, do anything else, I don’t remember, I don’t, I don’t!” he sobbed.

“Okay! Shhh, Enjolras, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” his master cried, taking Enjolras into his arms and holding him. Enjolras clung to him desperately, trying to fight off the memories. “I didn’t mean to upset you so much. It’s alright, I won’t talk about it anymore. I’m sorry.”

His master proceeded to hold Enjolras and make calming noises, running his hand back and forth on his back. Enjolras let himself be soothed. Eventually, he calmed down enough to fall into a fitful, uneasy sleep. The last thing he was aware of as he lost consciousness was the comfortingly familiar scent of his master surrounding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have anything to say, I'd like to hear it. or read it. Whatever.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. It was difficult for me to write this for a while, and the Christmas was really busy. But on the plus side, I know know exactly what is going to happen in this story! :D Also, I went over my word limit again and didn't even get everything that I wanted to into this chapter but shhhh, we're ignoring that...

_ There was a familiar beating in the back of his mind. A regular thudding that always accompanied these kinds of dreams. Enjolras ran, as he always did. He ran into the café that was so familiar to him. The stairs were mainly gone, but he managed to force his way up them. He saw his friends, all of them there and inexplicably in a row. He was trying to reach them but he couldn’t move fast enough, didn’t seem to be moving forward at all. He needed to be with them, he  _ **_needed_ ** _ to. He knew what was about to happen, and he couldn’t allow it to happen without him there. He had lead them to this; he couldn’t abandon them to die without him. The thudding was growing louder and louder and he pushed forwards harder, but he still couldn’t move. The thudding reached a crescendo, and then stopped all of a sudden as a shot rang out and his friends all dropped to the floor as one. He cried out in agony and dropped to his knees on the floor, his cry only cut off when his sobs became too prominent. _

  
  
  


Enjolras woke to his master gathering him in his arms. He was sobbing uncontrollably. He couldn't even bring himself to panic about having woken his master up, and about crying again. That would come, he was sure, but for now all he could think about was the misery enfolding him. He had gotten his only friends in the world killed. They’d followed him to their deaths, and he’d had the audacity to survive. His friends- Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Marius, Joly, Bossuet, Jehan, Feuilly, Bahorel; he repeated their names in his head, over and over.  _ CombeferreCourfeyracMariusJolyBossuetJehanFeuillyBahorel-  _ He became aware that he was speaking out loud and cut himself off. He would deserve to be whipped for this, if not worse. He finally,  _ finally _ managed to focus his attention on his master, as it should always be. With a shock of horror he realised that his master was  _ crying _ .

 

“I’m sorry, sir!” he exclaimed desperately, not even sure what he was apologising for.

“Shhhh, it’s alright,” his master whispered, and bizarrely Enjolras believed him. His master's tears were quieting, as were Enjolras’ own. He knew that he ought to be getting on his knees right now, and apologising profusely for not only waking his master up, but for upsetting him so much that he cried as well, but somehow, with those with those warm, familiar faces in his mind's eye, he somehow couldn’t force himself to kneel. Instead he stayed in his master's arms and hoped that he wouldn’t be punished too severely.

 

Soon they were both lying silently and Enjolras even thought that he might be able to fall back to sleep. Then his master spoke.

“It wasn’t your fault, Enjolras. Their deaths weren’t your fault. Not one of them followed you unwillingly.”

“But that’s- that’s not right, sir,” Enjolras replied, his heart already pounding at the idea of disagreeing with his master, but he couldn’t let this idea stand. “I- I led them to their deaths, and I got what I deserved because of it.”

“No, Enjolras! That isn’t true at all! There is nothing you could have done that would justify you being enslaved!”

“Yes sir,” Enjolras agreed hurriedly, cowed by the obvious anger in his master’s voice. He heard his master sigh above him and flinched. There was a long silence, and then his master spoke.

“There’s a few hours left before dawn still; would you like to sleep some more?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied despite the fact that he didn’t think he’d be able to. It was obviously the answer his master wanted.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Grantaire woke the next morning he was almost certain that Enjolras hadn’t slept any more last night at all. He looked exhausted in a way which didn’t suit his youthful appearance.

 

Grantaire led him to breakfast gently and allowed him to feed Chéri by hand when he asked. He was even more wary than he usually was of doing anything that might upset Enjolras this morning. The poor boy didn’t look like he could take it. He was so preoccupied by this that he failed to notice the letter set out of him on the table at first. When he finally noticed it, he was filled with an inexplicable sense of dread. He reached for the letter and opened it quickly.

 

_ To Monsieur R. Grantaire, _

 

_ Monsieur, I can only hope this letter finds you well. I was very pleased to make your acquaintance recently at the Perronne’s function. In fact, it is with regards to the arrangement we made at that function that I now write to you. As you no doubt recall, I parted with a dearly beloved pet at that party, and you had promised me that I would be free to see and play with it again. _

 

_ I wonder, dear sir, if I might take advantage of your hospitality, in order to do just that. Just for a night or two. I’m sure, having sampled his charms yourself, you can understand why I despair of being bereft of them now. _

 

_ I hope to hear from you soon, _

_ Monsieur J. Hubert. _

 

Grantaire was careful not to allow his rage at reading this letter show, remembering yesterday's disaster.

“Are you still hungry, Enjolras?” Grantaire asked gently, having fed Enjolras a few pieces of toast absentmindedly while he read the letter.

“No, sir.”

“Good. We’ll go into my study this morning, I’ve a few letters which need answering.”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras replied, but he looked concerned about something.

“Is something wrong?” Grantaire asked gently.

“It’s- it’s just that you… you haven’t eaten anything, sir,” Enjolras finished in a small voice, cringing into himself by the end. Grantaire was warmed by the fact that Enjolras had noticed, and cared, that he hadn’t eaten. Nevertheless, he rushed to reassure him.

“Thank you for your concern Enjolras, but I am simply not hungry this morning.”

Enjolras nodded his head in understanding, and while he no longer looked frightened, he did still seem mildly concerned, so Grantaire decided to distract him.

“Let’s go to my study, shall we?”

 

When they arrived in Grantaire’s study, Enjolras took his place in the blankets there without Grantaire having to tell him he was allowed to. A fact which not only made Grantaire smile, but which also made him confident enough to try something new with Enjolras today.

“I wonder, Enjolras,” Grantaire began gently, catching Enjolras’ attention from where it had been on Chéri, who was curled up in his lap, “if you might like to pass the time away today by reading.”

 

Enjolras stared up at Grantaire with his eyes wide. He looked as though he was trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle with his life on the line if he gave the wrong solution.

“If that would please you, sir,” he eventually replied, and the carefully blank tone he used broke Grantaire’s heart.

“Do you remember what I told you, Enjolras?” he asked gently. “I wish you you to be happy. It would only please me to have you read if that is something that would make you happy.”

“It… is, sir,” Enjolras replied hesitantly, looking as though he expected to be struck any moment.

“Wonderful!” Grantaire exclaimed, perhaps a little overly cheerfully. “Pick any book you’d like. As you can see, there are enough of them.” He let out a laugh that came out a little hollow.

“Sir, I- I don’t- please-”

“Would you like me to pick for you?” Grantaire asked softly, reminding himself yet again that Enjolras’ comfort was much more important than his own emotions about the situation.

“Yes, sir,  _ please,”  _ Enjolras answered, the profound relief in his tone making Grantaire feel immensely guilty.  _ Do better _ , he silently ordered himself.

 

The question now was what to pick for Enjolras to read. He’d already mentioned his copy of Chenier’s poems, having had Enjolras lean on them the other day. However, he daren’t give Enjolras that to read for fear of either incensing him, or stirring up bad memories so soon after last night.  _ Le Contrat Social _ was out for similar reasons. In fact, his entire collection of political texts ought to be avoided. The novels he owned were not the sort that Enjolras would have considered reading before. They were either idle romances, or more scandalous, explicit books. At last, his eyes caught just the thing.  _ Moliére. _ It was perfect. A complete works; Enjolras could pick whichever one he wished to read, and it was comedy, so it oughtn’t be too distressing.

 

“Here,” he said, handing the heavy tome to Enjolras. “Perhaps this will do? If you start reading it and don’t like it, you need only say so, and I’ll find something else for you to read, alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir; this is very generous of you.” Enjolras was looking at the book as though he’d been handed the holy grail itself. When he tore his eyes away to look at Grantaire it was with the same reverent, worshipful look, which caused Grantaire’s breath to catch in his throat. How often had he yearned for Enjolras to look at him like that, before the barricade? Like he was worth something. And now he had it, and all because he’d given Enjolras a book. He forced a smile and hoped that Enjolras was too preoccupied with the book to notice the tears in his eyes.

 

He sat down at his desk and pulled out his father’s letter, deciding to answer that first. As he re-read the missive he heard Enjolras allow a small chuckle to escape him, followed quickly by an alarmed gasp. He turned immediately and found Enjolras with a hand pressed over his mouth, looking at him with distressed eyes. It took Grantaire a moment to figure out what was causing Enjolras distress.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered fearfully.

“No, no, Enjolras, it’s fine. You’re allowed to laugh and make noise and react however you like. You won’t be punished for it, I swear.”

Enjolras nodded but still looked hesitant.

“I like to hear it, it pleases me,” Grantaire added desperately. “I like it when you’re happy,” he added more firmly.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Enjolras said, beaming.

“You’re welcome,” Grantaire replied, smiling back weakly.

 

He returned to reading his father’s letter and mentally composed his reply with Enjolras’ occasional chuckles and huffs of amusement drifting into his consciousness every so often. He had to admit, it made staying calm as he read it much easier to know that Enjolras was here, and he was happy.

 

He mentally composed his reply, ensuring it contained everything he needed it to say, before beginning to write.

 

_ Father, _

 

_ I intend to arrive on the morning of the 15th. We can sort through my accounts for that quarter during the day, and, out of necessity, I shall stay the night. You will, no doubt, protest at the brevity of my visit. However, I cannot bring myself to stay longer than necessary in your home, Monsieur. _

 

_ I must state quite emphatically that I shall not be bringing our, how did you put it? Our “mutual acquaintance”. There is nothing in the world which could entice me to allow you in his presence again. I found your conduct with him on our last meeting appalling. That, we shall discuss more face-to-face, if we are to have any hope of progressing back to an amicable relationship. A hope which, I must admit, I find myself lacking at present. _

 

_ Sincerely (I cannot bring myself to sign faithfully). _

_ R. _

 

_ P.s. Give my love to Mother. I have no quarrel with her. _

 

Thus finished, Grantaire rested his pen in an open ink pot and re-read the letter. Satisfied, he addressed an envelope and sealed the letter inside with hot wax, pressing the ornate “R” stamp, which had been a birthday gift from Bossuet some years ago, into the puddle.

 

Than done he took a moment to check on Enjolras, who was still reading the book with an amused smile on his face, and with Chéri still curled up in his lap. Honestly, Grantaire had never longed to paint any scene more than this one, but that would have to wait. He had another letter which required answering. He set to writing, not bothering to think this one out before committing it to the page.

 

_ Hubert, _

 

_ To put things plainly, if I ever catch sight of you again, I shall not hesitate to use whatever skill I might have picked up in my boxing and singlestick days to remove the blight of your presence from this miserable world. You shall never so much as catch a glimpse of Enjolras again, not as long as I am around to protect him. Enjolras. That is his name, you see. Did you ever even know that? What you and the man who had him before you have done to him is reprehensible, and if there were any justice in the world you would suffer for it. Alas, the world is cruel, so instead I must satisfy myself with saying this: if you come near Enjolras again, I will make you beg for death before I deliver that boon to you. I do hope I have made myself clear. _

 

_ Grantaire. _

 

He quickly addressed an envelope for this letter as well, and sealed the letter inside. They would both go out with the post in the evening, with any luck. That done, Grantaire turned to check on Enjolras once more, only to realise with a shock of horror that the boy was crying silently while he stared at the book he had been reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought, maybe?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since I've updated. Sorry guys. I really hated this chapter (I still do but I'm done tweaking so here you go). 
> 
> Also, for anyone who doesn't want to read explicit sex or non con stop reading at “Alright, I think you mean it this time,” and start again at "Now say ‘thank you for using me, master’.”  
> And I'll summarise what happened at the bottom.
> 
> Edit: I forgot to say that Imaginary Invalid thing is as much Victor Hugo's fault as mine. He's the one who described Joly as that... I just decided to make Enjokras cry with it
> 
> So... enjoy?

The startled gasp that Grantaire gave when he noticed that Enjolras was crying seemed to alert the boy to his attention. It was easy to tell that Enjolras immediately attempted to quell his tears, letting out a small whimper.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he sobbed.

“Shhhh,” Grantaire soothed, rushing over and taking Enjolras into his arms. “What are you sorry about?”

“I know you like it when I’m happy. I’m not supposed to be sad. I’m sorry for not being what you want me to be.”

Grantaire was too horrified to speak for a moment.

“No,” he cried. “No, Enjolras that’s not what I- I didn’t mean that you’re not allowed to be anything other than happy. I only mean that I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, because I care about you.”

“Sir,” Enjolras sobbed, “please, I don’t know what you want, I don’t understand-”

“Shhh, you don’t have to understand right now. We’ll talk about it later, okay? For now, can you perhaps tell me what’s upsetting you?”

“I- Gra- sir, it’s- it’s just a silly thing I read is all. It’s insignificant, it doesn’t m-matter,” Enjolras finished, his sobs making it difficult to speak.

“Will you let me see anyway?” Grantaire asked, gently. Enjolras passed over the book, with a care that gave Grantaire a pang in his chest. Grantaire scanned the page quickly, and when he did, he stopped breathing for a moment.

 

He found himself looking at the title page for _Le Malade Imaginaire_ (The Imaginary Invalid) and he too was overcome with memories. It was Bossuet who had first made the joke, calling Joly Argan and claiming that he was a real life _malade imaginaire_. From then it had spread throughout the rest of their group of friends, until it had become an official nickname. Of course, before they had begun to use it they had checked with the man in question first that it didn’t upset him. There was a line drawn already within their group of friends, when it came to joking about Joly’s hypochondria. A line which had been crossed once, and caused a rift so deep that it had almost separated Joly from the rest of them. Luckily, they had apologised and reconciled,  but from then on they were all much more careful about their teasing. Nevertheless, the nickname had been approved as acceptable, and it wasn’t difficult to tell what Enjolras was crying over now.

 

Grantaire immediately took him into his arms once more and began shushing him gently, rocking him a little. It occurred to him that this seemed not unlike soothing an infant, but hardly cared at the moment. Time passed, though Grantaire didn’t mark how much of it did. Eventually, Enjolras’ tears ceased and he began whispering frantic apologises against his chest.

“Hush, now,” Grantaire replied. “There’s no need for that. I’m not at all angry with you and you haven’t done anything wrong. If anything, it’s I who owes you an apology. I ought to have realised what distress the book would cause you. Had I done so, I never would have given it to you. I’m so sorry, Enjolras.” He was inwardly berating himself for being so stupid. Enjolras was his responsibility, and what good was he to him if he couldn’t have the presence of mind to actually _think_ about such things.

 

“Do you want to talk about what upset you, Enjolras?”

“If that would please you, sir.”

“I only want that if it would make you feel better. If it wouldn’t then we won’t talk about it.I know you miss them. I do as well. Would talking about it help to ease that?”

“No. I-I don’t want to talk about it, sir, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for telling me that, that’s absolutely fine. Would you perhaps prefer it if I read something to you?”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras replied softly. “I would like that, if it pleases you?”

“Very well.”

 

So they passed the time before lunch with Grantaire reading a different book to Enjolras, whom he still held in his arms.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next couple of weeks passed without incident, besides Grantaire receiving an abrupt reply from his father confirming that the date of his arrival was acceptable. It was now the very day he would need to set out, and he had not yet broached the subject with Enjolras. He had no idea how to go about such a thing. He knew that the separation would be incredibly difficult for the traumatised boy, but there was no way that he would allow his father anywhere near Enjolras, so he simply could not be brought along. As for the matter of having not told Enjolras of his imminent departure, he told himself that it was because he wished to spare Enjolras as much time worrying as possible. In reality, however, the truth was that he was too much a coward to be able to face Enjolras’ unhappiness even a moment before he had too. Which led him to this situation. He was to set out that evening, and it was now lunch time. He would have to tell Enjolras now.

 

“Enjolras,” he said to the boy kneeling beside his chair at the table. The boy immediately focused his attention on him.

“Yes, sir?”

“I have something I need to tell you. I will be taking a short trip for a couple of days. And I’m afraid that I can’t take you with me.”

Enjolras bowed his head and was silent.

“How are you feeling about that?” Grantaire asked him anxiously.

“Have- have I done something to displease you, sir?”

“What? No! No you haven’t, Enjolras.”

“Then why are you leaving me, sir?” he asked quietly.

“I have to go visit my parents and I can’t take you with me. You remember my father from the party? He would hurt you again if given the chance.”

Enjolras was silent once more for a few more seconds. He still hadn’t looked up.

“I could serve him like that again, sir?” he finally offered hesitantly. “If that’s what it would take for me to be allowed to come with you.”

“No!” Grantaire cried, causing Enjolras to flinch. “I don’t want you to be hurt. I won’t let anyone hurt you like that again.”

“I know, sir! But please, I’d rather that than you leave, sir. I’d rather anything than that.” Enjolras had finally looked up, at least.

“I can’t allow that,” Grantaire whispered in a choked voice. “I won’t.”

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras muttered miserably.

 

“You won’t be left alone, Enjolras. Floréal will be with you every moment, I have already arranged it with her. And you’ll have Chéri, of course. And it will only be two days, and then I’ll be back. And when I am we’ll… we’ll spend the whole day outside playing with Chéri, just to make up for my having to leave you. That will be fun, won’t it?” Grantaire finished rather desperately.

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras murmured dejectedly.

“Anyway, enough of that unpleasant talk. Are you still hungry, Enjolras?”

“No, sir.”

“Alright then, this afternoon I should probably nap, since I’ll be traveling all night. Would you like to join me? You can bring a book to read if you like, so you have something to do if you don’t feel sleepy.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Grantaire sighed despite the fact that he hadn’t really expected anything more. He took Enjolras to his study to retrieve a book of poetry which he had been reading lately and then settled down in his bed, with Enjolras lying next to him.

“You can sleep or read, whichever you like, alright?” Grantaire told him seriously.

“Yes, sir,” Enjolras said, before closing his eyes.

 

In the end, Enjolras fell asleep long before he did, a fact which surprised Grantaire, considering the boys earlier distress. Then again, Grantaire mused darkly, Enjolras probably had plenty of experience sleeping in distressing situations. Grantaire wondered if Enjolras would have a nightmare tonight.

 

 

* * *

  


 

 **_Phwhip_ ** _. Enjolras heard the noise in time to tense up just as the cane struck his bare thighs. It was a hard hit, and the pain was blistering. His knees buckled and he would have fallen had his hands not been restrained above him._

 _“You’re going to apologise to me, slave,” the National Guardsman growled, blood dripping from his bust lip where Enjolras had managed to hit him. “And you’re going to mean it. I am going to make you very,_ **_very_ ** _sorry.” Here he delivered another agonising blow with the cane, just below the mark from the first strike. Enjolras cried out as it hit._

_“I thought that I’d broken this fighting spirit from you. But apparently not. Nevermind, we’ll get there. Eventually.” The end of each sentence was punctuated by another strike. Enjolras was certain that they were drawing blood now. Another strike came and he lost the battle against sobbing aloud._

 

 _“What was your plan, slut? (_ ** _Phwhip)_** _Were you hoping you would knock me unconscious so you could escape? (_ ** _Phwhip_** _) You’re much too weak to manage that now. (_ ** _Phwhip_** _) I’m actually rather impressed at the damage you’ve managed to do. (_ ** _Phwhip_** _) But you’ve made me bleed, slave (_ ** _Phwhip_** _) and I’m going to make you pay for every drop of my blood with plenty of your own.”_ **_Phwhip phwhip phwhip_ ** _._

_“Please!” Enjolras cried desperately, knowing he couldn’t take much more. Not when his body hurt so much already from weeks of abuse._

_“I already told you, you stupid slut, if you want it to stop then apologise. Sincerely.” The man hit him again across his thighs and the pain was so blinding that he couldn’t speak for a moment. He found his voice again as he heard the man pull his arm back for another hit._

_“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please stop!”_

_“Hmmm.” The National Guardsman considered him, walking around the front of his body and tapping his cheek gently with the bloody cane, no doubt leaving a mark behind._

_“I’m not sure that you mean it,” he said thoughtfully. “Say ‘I’m sorry, master’.”_

_Enjolras stared at him but couldn’t force the words past his lips._

_“No?” the man asked mockingly. “Very well then, we’ll continue.”_

 

_Enjolras lasted through seven more blistering strikes before he broke._

_“Please! I’m sorry, master! I’m sorry, please stop! No more, please!”_

_“Alright, I think you mean it this time,” his master said. “Now, you know what comes after an apology, don’t you? You have to make it up to me. So I’m going to untie you and then you’re going to use that pretty mouth of yours to make amends. And know that if you try anything I will ensure that the pain you are feeling now seems insignificant in the face of what I will do to you. Do you understand?”_

_Enjolras nodded defeatedly, then cried out as his master pinched one of the still bleeding welts on his thigh._

_“Say ‘yes, master’.”_

_“Yes, master,” Enjolras gasped._

 

_His master released Enjolras’ hands and the boy fell to his knees immediately, his legs unable to support his weight. He screamed as his thighs made contact with his heels. His master laughed and grabbed a fistful of Enjolras’ hair, pulling his mouth into contact with the bulge in his trousers. Enjolras obediently mouthed at it, hating himself even as he did. His master allowed him to pull back only long enough for him to undo his trousers before he was dragging him forwards again towards his cock. Enjolras forced himself to remain pliant as his master roughly took his mouth, holding his head in place with both hands as he snapped his hips forwards. After what seem to be an eternity, it was finally over and his master pulled out._

 

_“Now say ‘thank you for using me, master’.”_

_“Th-thank you for using me, master,” Enjolras repeated, brokenly._

_“Good boy. But, of course, I can’t have you thinking that attempting to run away is acceptable. You’ll have to be punished for that as well as harming me.”_

_“No, master,_ **_please_ ** _,” Enjolras begged. He couldn’t take anymore pain today, he really couldn’t._

_“Hush, hush now,” his master soothed, stroking his hand through Enjolras’ hair in a way that almost did seem comforting. “It won’t hurt. I’m just going to show you what your life would be like without me.”_

 

_He led Enjolras over to a door in the back of the kitchen. Enjolras had wondered what was in there for a while now. As it turned out, nothing was in there. Nothing but a trapdoor in the middle of the floor. His master opening this as well and ordered Enjolras to climb down the ladder. When Enjolras reached the bottom he found himself in a cellar. It was icy cold to Enjolras’ naked skin, and the only light source was from the opening of the trapdoor. The only distinguishable feature was a dumbwaiter in the corner._

_“We won’t be seeing each other for a while, slave. But in the interim I’d like you to remember this: this is what happened because you tried to run away, and this is what your life is like without me. Say it.”_

_“This is what happened because I tried to run away, and this is what my life is like without you,” Enjolras repeated, a cold feeling of trepidation settling in his stomach._

_“Good. I’ll be seeing you then, slave. Or not.”_

  
_Then his master closed the trapdoor and Enjolras heard the bolt slide across. It was pitch black, and while it was cold, it wasn’t such a terrible punishment, Enjolras mused. Of course, Enjolras was unaware then that it would be three months before he saw his master again, and by then he would be so grateful for human contact that he would do anything that was asked of him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, the National Guardsman makes Enjolras give him a blowjob to make it up to him. Because he's the worst.
> 
> So, I hope it wasn't too awful...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a warning, there's some mentions of non-con in this chapter.

Enjolras woke to a mercifully light room. The setting sun outside caused the rays to slant through the windows and light up the room with a brilliant, fire-like glow. For a moment as he recovered from his nightmare he felt that everything was well. Then he remembered. His master was going to leave him.  _ His master was going to leave him _ . He felt the dark from his memory pressing in again. He began to tremble as he lay beside his master and he felt tears coming to his eyes. He remembered what his life was like without his master. It was cold and dark and silent and he couldn’t bear that again, he _ couldn’t. _

 

“Enjolras?” His master's voice came from near his ear. Enjolras hadn’t even noticed that he’d woken up. Bad, he was such a bad slave, no wonder his master was leaving him.

“Enjolras, what’s wrong? Can you tell me what’s the matter, please?” Enjolras felt himself being gathered against his master's chest and immediately felt better.

“Please, sir,” he begged against his master’s chest. “Please don’t go. I’ll be good. I’ll do  _ anything.  _ Please don’t go.”

“I- I have to. I’m sorry. It’s only for two days. Then, I’ll be back, I promise. Here,” his master held out a coin that had been on the bedside table to him. “I want you to take this, and then when you look at it, remember this promise. I will come back to you, I swear it. Do you believe me?”

 

Enjolras wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t think his master would punish him if he said no, though he was always supposed to believe his master. And he didn’t think his master his would lie to him, but it was hard to believe that this could be true in the face of being left. He decided to tell the truth.

“I’m trying to, sir.” His master sighed, but did not punish him.

“I suppose that’s the most I can ask for.”

Enjolras flinched.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he muttered, ashamed of himself. His master was disappointed with him. Enjolras thought he would prefer him being angry. With his other masters such a thought would have been unthinkable. Their anger had been the worst thing that could have happened to him, because then his punishment would be especially vicious. This though, the idea that he wasn’t good enough for this master was a pain in his heart. All he wanted was to please this master.

“No Enjolras, I didn’t mean- I’m not upset with you.”

“Sir?”

“I know how hard this is for you and I’m proud of you for how well you’re doing.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m trying to be good for you.”

“I know Enjolras, you’re doing so well.”

 

His master got up and began packing a small case. Enjolras slid from the bed and onto the floor. His knew that his master would have to leave soon. Chéri came and seated himself in Enjolras’ lap, nudging against Enjolras’ hand to attempt to get him to stroke him. Enjolras looked to his master for permission. He was going to be good for his master now so that he would come back.

 

“Come Enjolras, I’ll leave you with Floréal, then I have to go,” his master ordered. “You should bring Chéri with you.” Enjolras crawled after him silently, the cat following behind. He felt the fluttery feeling of panic in his chest as he contemplated his masters imminent departure. Once they were in the kitchen with Floréal, his master crouched down to Enjolras’ eye-level.

“I have to go now, Enjolras. Do you still have the coin?” Enjolras was still gripping it tightly, had been since his master had given it to him.

“Yes, sir.”

“You remember what it means?”

“Yes, sir. That you’ll come back, sir. You promised.”

“Yes. I will, Enjolras. I swear.” His master gripped the hand clenched around the coin tightly for a moment, then let go and rose.

“Goodbye,” he said, firmly.

“Goodbye, sir.”

Enjolras watched as his master walked out of the door, before looking down to stare and the coin in his hand.

 

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


 

Leaving Enjolras behind was every bit as difficult as he’d expected it to be, Grantaire mused as he watched his home grow smaller through the tiny window in the back of his carriage. The poor boy had looked a painful mixture of both heart-broken and terrified as he watched Grantaire walk out of the door, and it only strengthened his resolve to have this unpleasant business dealt with as quickly as possible so that he could get back to Enjolras. He would have to make it up to the boy once he’d returned. He considered how he might do that as the sky grew darker and darker outside. Days spent outside with Chéri, and nights spent in Grantaire’s embrace? It seemed more a reward for Grantaire than anything. It was still a marvel to him that Enjolras was comforted by his touch, when before he most likely would have shuddered in disgust at it.

 

He shook himself. It did him no good to dwell on what Enjolras had been like before this horror. All that mattered was who he was now, and helping him recover, not so that he could be who he was because that was now an impossibility, but so that he could be happy and less frightened as the person he was now.

 

He spent the rest of the long and tedious journey contemplating a future where Enjolras felt happy and safe with him.

  
  
  


Grantaire arrived at his parents estate about an hour after the sun had come up the next morning. At the sound of the carriage his mother came rushing out of the house, and embraced him the moment he stepped out of the confined space.

“How I’ve missed you, Réné. You really mustn’t stay away so long! And you left so abruptly last time!” she admonished him, gently. He smiled to himself as he took in her uncomely (a trait she had passed down to him) yet still pleasant appearance. He truly had missed her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Circumstances dictated that I had to leave.”

 

Just then Grantaire spotted his father over his mother’s shoulder. The man was standing just outside the doorway of the house, the small staircase leading up to it making him seem more imposing than he might usually have managed. Grantaire carefully pulled away from his mother to go and stand in front of his father.

“Monsieur,” he greeted him coldly.

“Son,” his father replied with equal chilliness. “Perhaps we ought to retire to my study to deal with what business we have with each other.”

“I think that would be best,” Grantaire agreed stiffly.

 

Once the study door was closed behind them Grantaire expected the row to begin immediately. To his surprise however, his father really did pull out his account book.

“We had best get the actual business out of the way before we deal with the matter brought up in our correspondence.” 

Grantaire agreed only for the fact that this way, once the accounts were taken care of he would be free to leave should he dislike what his father had to say. The actual settling of the accounts took no more than an hours, and it only increased Grantaire’s ire that this small matter is what had taken him away from Enjolras and cause him such distress.

 

“And now onto a more serious matter,” said Grantaire once the account books were settled and closed.

“Yes,” his father interrupted. “Let us discuss your needless disrespect and antagonism in your letter. You dare address me as ‘Monsieur’! I, your father, addressed as though I were a total stranger to you! If you didn’t want to share your slave you might have just said so! I see no need for such petty actions.”

“No need!” cried Grantaire, laughing bitterly. “No need, when you treat a human being as no more than a hole for you to fuck! No need, when you think that taking away his personal freedom is a correct thing to do! No need, when you have  _ raped  _ someone! Do you not see why I cannot bring myself to address you as “Father”? Do you honestly think that my objection is that I don’t want to share him with you?”

“Well I can’t see what else it might be! You’re the one who bought the boy after all, René. And it is not as though you did not know what goes on it those backrooms. You are the one who sought it out!”

“I was aware you might pay someone for their time, not that you would take advantage of a terrified and traumatised individual! And I bought him to save him! I know him! Did you not consider- did it not occur to you for one fleeting moment- that since he was caught on the barricades in ‘32, that I might? He was my friend! And- and more than that,” Grantaire felt his voice breaking here but he had to continue, “I love him. I have always loved him. I still do. And I cannot allow any more pain to be inflicted on him. Not by you. Not by anyone.”

 

His father looked aghast.

“You- you love him?” he asked faintly.

“Yes,” Grantaire replied, laughing bitterly. “Do you not despise me even more now?”

“What?” His father seemed stunned. Then he shook himself. “No! No, I could not hate you René! Not for that certainly! I simply- I am so sorry, René. I will not ask for your forgiveness, but you must know I am sorry.”

“It is not me to whom you ought to apologise,” Grantaire replied, coldly. “And this is certainly an about face for you. I’m not certain I trust your sincerity.”

“You must know I would never hurt anyone dear to you.”

“But if it had been a stranger you think it would have been fine!”

“I- they are only whores or vagabonds-”

“Just as Enjolras was only a slave! They are all people! Do you not see that? They are people with lives and families and people who care about them. Just as Enjolras was. There is no difference, just because it was me who cares about Enjolras! Do you see?”

“I- I think I do.” Grantaire felt himself soften as he took in his father after this proclamation. The old man looked broken, his skin ashen and his hands trembling.

“I cannot ask for forgiveness,” his father began, “but I can attempt to put right what I have wronged. I love you, René, whether you love this young man or not. And you must go.”

“What is this?” Grantaire asked bitterly. “‘I love you but you must go’. ‘I am your father but I cannot stand the sight of you-’”

“No! You must not think that! Please, do not. I mean that you must go because your boy is in danger.”

“Danger?” Grantaire asked, sharp now that it involved Enjolras. “What danger?”

“I have been corresponding with Hubert. The man who owned the boy before. There is a plan to take the boy from you while you are busy here. You must believe me René, I am sorry. It was done in anger and he made it sound as though this was what was best for you, since you are so attached.”

“Where is he taking him?” Grantaire asked in a deadly calm voice.

“To his estate, a day's ride from here if one rushes. You know the way?”

“Yes! You will spare me a horse?”

“Of course, but perhaps it will be better to take a carriage? You must transport the boy once you’ve rescued him.”

 

Grantaire was torn, he did not want to delay. A carriage would take longer and every second he wasted was a second more pain for Enjolras, but he could not take Enjolras all the way back to his estate on horseback when he would undoubtedly be injured.

“I will go on horseback,” he decided, “and you will send a carriage to that old abandoned farmhouse which is nearby Hubert’s estate. You recall it from our summers there?”

“Yes, I recall. Here, take this with you.” 

His father pulled out a box and from it produced a revolver and bullets. Grantaire took it and tucked it into his jacket.

“Goodbye, son. Good luck.”

  
Grantaire nodded and took his leave, knowing that he would need more than luck to save Enjolras, but also knowing that he would do anything he had to in order to succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there are only a couple of chapters left now, two possibly three.  
> Maybe let me know what you thought?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for how long this took... I just didn't feel like writing it.
> 
> But in other news! Look at this amazing art that jehanjetaime did for this fic! It's so amazing it makes me want to cry :')  
> http://jehanjetaime.tumblr.com/post/160170633519/but-he-wasnt-allowed-to-remember-before-when  
> (if I knew how to I would make it so the link was just one of the words, but I do not so you just get the link to copy and paste, sorry)

Enjolras’ eyes kept straying towards the window. It was ridiculous, he knew. There was no way his master would be back yet, he had only left a few hours ago. Enjolras touched the coin he had put in his pocket, reminding himself that his master  _ would _ return. He was sitting in the kitchen while Floréal cooked. In all honesty, he wished that he could have Chéri with him. He helped to calm him. But the kitten had been banished to the sitting room for what Floréal called “being bothersome”. Enjolras was simply relieved that kitten hadn’t been hurt as a consequence of it’s bad behaviour.

 

Enjolras heard a ruckus outside. It seemed that a carriage had pulled up to the back door. Enjolras didn’t know much about the etiquette of private estates, but he knew that this was very unusual. Floréal had stopped chopping her vegetables and was making her way to the door to investigate the unusual occurrence. She was only gone a moment before Enjolras heard a startled cry which was immediately cut off. He jumped to his feet in alarm, forgetting for a moment that he was not allowed to stand unless he was ordered to. He almost lost his footing entirely as wave of dizziness and nausea hit him when Hubert, his previous master, walked through the door holding a gun.

 

“Get on your knees,” he ordered harshly, gesturing at him with the gun. “And here I thought all of that defiance had been beaten out of you before I even owned you. Have you forgotten that you’re not allowed to stand? Nevermind. I’ll enjoy breaking you all over again, and getting to do it myself this time.”

 

Enjolras obeyed the initial order instinctively before remembering: this man was no longer his master. He did not have to obey.

 

“Now,” Hubert growled, gesturing with the gun he was holding, “get in the carriage.”

“No,” Enjolras murmured tremulously, though still audibly. His stomach was roiling with anxiety at the idea of disobeying this man, but he wouldn’t allow himself to obey when he didn’t have to. Besides, he couldn’t leave his master's house without permission.

“No? No! My, you have changed, haven’t you? Very well, get into the carriage or I shall shoot the woman who tried to protect you.”

 

Enjolras’ heart lurched. He- he couldn’t leave with this man, he couldn’t leave his master’s house. But he  _ couldn’t  _ allow Floréal to be hurt. She’d always been kind to him and the thought of her being harmed whilst protecting him was intolerable. He stood and began to walk forwards. Hubert leveled the gun at him.

“Crawl,” he ordered, menacingly. Enjolras froze and closed his eyes, bracing himself. Then he slowly lowered himself back to ground, a tear slipping from his left eye as he did. He crawled to the carriage and knelt in the footwell as he knew he would be made to anyway. Hubert settled in the seat above him and the carriage set off as soon as the door was closed.

 

Hubert stroked a finger down the side of Enjolras’ face in a way that would have been tender if it weren’t for the possessive look in his eyes. Hubert looked at him as a man might look at a prized possession. It made Enjolras shudder.

“My master will come for me,” he whispered hoarsely. Hubert scoffed.

“That man is no longer your master; I am. He gave you back to me. Why else do you think he left you alone just as I came for you, you stupid slut? You weren’t good for him so he got rid of you. He arranged for me to come and get you while he was away. I’m all you have now.”

 

Enjolras felt dizzy at this news. His master wouldn’t- he couldn’t have- but what Hubert said did make sense. He’d been behaving appallingly for his master -for M. Grantaire- And now he’d been given away. Despair clawed it’s way up his throat and lodged itself there, choking him. He knew he’d been spoiled by how kindly M. Grantaire had treated him, but now going back to how he was used to being treated before was unthinkable. He wasn’t certain that he could cope with that again.

 

“Get undressed, slut,” Hubert ordered from above him. “I want to see what I own.”

Enjolras complied with shaking hands. Unbuttoning his shirt took far too long and he received a swift kick to his ribs. Thankfully, taking off his trousers was much simpler. It was as he removed them that he heard a small thunk as something hit the floor.  _ The coin _ , he thought distantly. The coin from his pocket. The one that his master had given him to remind him that he would come back to him as soon as he could. Of course! How could Enjolras have doubted for even a moment? His master would never had given Enjolras up. He was far too kind for that. He’d given Enjolras a coin to stop him from worrying about his return. He’d gifted him with a kitten simply to provide him comfort. He never hurt Enjolras, or did anything to cause him discomfort. He treated him almost like a person. His master would never have given him up to Hubert, and he would come for Enjolras he knew, Enjolras just had to hold out until he did. And holding out meant not angering Hubert for now.

 

Enjolras settled back down on to his heels, keeping his eyes lowered to the floor in an attempt at keeping his newly realised knowledge from Hubert for the moment. Let him think that Enjolras thought himself Hubert’s property for now, it would make it easier to fight later on when he had the opportunity, since Hubert would not expect it.

 

“That’s it, slave. Are you remembering how low you are now?” Hubert asked. Enjolras could hear a smirk in his voice, though he did not look up to check. “Do you remember how you ought to act? How little you deserve the attention I spare you?”

“Yes, master,” Enjolras demurred, forcing himself to lean forward and kiss Hubert’s boot. The action caused bile to rise into the back of his throat. It was only so he could get back to Grantaire, he reminded himself. “Thank you for bothering to gift me with your attention, master,” he forced himself to add.

“Good slut. You can show me how grateful you are once we arrive back home.”

 

After that Hubert seemed to lose interesting in talking to Enjolras, or even acknowledging him at all. Though he would occasionally nudge him with his foot to change Enjolras’ position to one that he found more pleasing. The ache in Enjolras’ thighs and calves grew steadily as the hours passed, though he did not bother to ask for permission to change his position. He knew he would be denied, and it was better to pretend servile obedience at this point. The hours passed agonisingly slowly, and Enjolras was almost relieved when they arrived at Hubert’s estate despite knowing what awaited him there. At least he would be allowed to move now. 

 

Except that when he tried to follow Hubert from the carriage he found his legs entirely incapable of cooperating. When he tried to move them he simply collapsed to the ground, earning himself a sharp kick from Hubert, before the man gave an exasperated sigh.

“Carry him. Put him in the basement.” he ordered gruffly to one of the servants. Enjolras remembered him from before. This was not the first time the man had been required to carry Enjolras somewhere because he was incapable of transporting himself. 

 

He was deposited, not ungently, in the basement and left alone there. There was a single window near the ceiling which allowed a slither of light into the room. Enjolras dragged himself as close to it as he could but still he felt as though the dark was pressing in around him. Something heavy and oppressive. Despite himself he wished that someone would come, no matter what they might do once they did. He hoped it would be soon. He didn’t know how long he could last down here on his own without screaming and begging for someone to come.

 

 

* * *

  
  


 

Grantaire was frantic. Enjolras was more than likely being hurt at that very moment and there wasn’t anything he could do about it but dash madly for Hubert’s estate. He dug his heels into the horse harder and spurred it to go faster. Hours trickled past, and suddenly he was riding through a small town being flagged down by a stable boy of the town’s inn. He almost didn’t stop but the look of distress on the stable boy's face convinced him. He pulled the horse up sharply and the stable boy ran up to him.

 

“Hold M’sieur!” the boy called to him, a little angrily. “You go much further on that horse and it’ll collapse beneath you!”

“I’ve no time to waste!” Grantaire cried, almost frenzied.

“You’re not going to get where you’re going on a dead horse!” the boy snapped. “Let it rest for an hour or so, then set back off and go steady. It’s the only way you’ll get where you’re going on that horse.”

Grantaire looked down and saw what he had ignored until now, too focused on getting to Enjolras. The horse was exhausted; he couldn’t in good conscience ride it any further without a break, and even then in this state he couldn’t ride it hard. He needed a fresh horse. He dismounted and the stable boy essentially snatched the reins from his hand.

“Will you be wanting oats for her M’sieur?” the boy asked, in a tone of voice that left Grantaire with no doubts that he did, in fact, want oats for her. He nodded and the boy went about his work.

“Listen,” Grantaire began, “is there anyone around here who would rent me a horse for a couple of days?” The stable boy snorted.

“No one’s gonna give you their horse seeing how you’ve worn this one down.”

“Please,” Grantaire pleaded, aware that his desperation was showing in his voice but hardly minding, “please, my friend is in grave danger. I need to get to him as soon as possible. Please just tell me where I might find a horse. I’ll pay whatever price the owner requires.” The stable boy looked him up and down, apparently deciding whether he was in earnest. After an agonising few seconds the boy seemed satisfied.

“I’m not promising anything but I can ask a few people. How far are you going?”

“Five leagues further.”

“And you want a horse that can do that without a break?”

“Yes.”

“I might know one. Go wait inside, I’ll go ask.”

“Thank you!” The boy ran off without answering and Grantaire made his way inside.

 

Waiting in the bar was the most agonising experience of his life. He ordered wine so as not to seem out of place, but he couldn’t take a single sip of it. He needed a clear head. Enjolras’ well-being might depend on it. He couldn’t clear his head of visions of what might be happening to Enjolras even as he sat here uselessly waiting. From his experience helping Enjolras recover he knew exactly what situation he had been dragged back to. Even now Enjolras could be being starved, or beaten, or… raped. He forced himself to think the word. His negligence had allowed Enjolras to fall back into this situation so he would not allow himself to shy from the realities of that now. 

 

He offered himself the meagre comfort of the thought that when he had Enjolras back- and he  _ would _ get him back, he swore- he would do whatever it took to make him happy again. They’d spend the whole day outside with Chéri, whether or not the weather was good. Or Enjolras could read all day if he wanted to, nothing that would make him sad this time though, Grantaire would make sure. Or Enjolras could spend the whole day in his arms; he’d liked that before.  _ If he ever wants to touch you again, _ he reminded himself,  _ you don’t know what’s happening to him right now _ . And if he didn’t, well then Grantaire would stay well clear. He’d make sure that Enjolras always felt safe and happy no matter what.

 

Finally, after what seemed a veritable eternity to Grantaire, the stable boy returned.

“The blacksmith’s willing you sell you his horse. For 50 francs. Says he won’t go any lower than that, nor will he rent him to you, since you’ll most likely exhaust him.”

“Fine, take me to him.”

 

The boy lead Grantaire out of the inn and into the now rain soaked street. It seemed as though the heavens had opened while he was inside. He ducked his head against the deluge, but the boy paid it no mind. He kept glancing at Grantaire as though he wished to say something.

“What?” Grantaire asked gruffly.

“You won’t exhaust him, will you, M’sieur? He’s a good horse, he doesn’t deserve it.”

“I won’t, I swear. I’ll ride him hard, to be sure- a man’s life is at stake, after all. But nothing he won’t recover from with a few hours rest. Besides, I’ll have to go steadier in this weather.” Inwardly Grantaire cursed. Every second that he was delayed was a second that Enjolras suffered.

 

Finally, they reached the Blacksmith’s and Grantaire paid for the horse. The stable boy saddled it with the equipment from Grantaire’s first horse in record time, he really was good at his job and obviously cared about the horses. Grantaire chucked him a couple of coins, not caring what they were. From the boy’s expression probably much more than he’d ever been given before and, that debt satisfied, Grantaire set off into rain as quickly as he dared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe let me know what you thought?


End file.
